


Wiping the Slate

by gleefulmusings



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Best Friends, Bisexual Character, Borrowed Character (Other Fandom), Canon is Out the Window, Drama, Every Boy Wants Kurt, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Kurt is the Star, M/M, Multi, Pansexual Character, Romance, Series Rewrite, Starting Over, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Season One rewrite featuring Kurt as the central character. Not an outcast because of his sexuality, Kurt is a shy, reserved boy who is a freshman at McKinley High. He has good friends, a terrific relationship with his father, and is supported and loved. </p><p>Kurt is awesome and deserves to be happy. In this story, he will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take a Bow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in this fandom long enough that my readers know what to expect of me. After rewatching the series recently, I've come to the conclusion that, aside from some of the acting, it's shit. The writing is lackluster and uneven. Character development is lacking, too often retconned, or, in some cases, absent altogether. Some storylines were not only preposterous, but offensive. 
> 
> There was also a total lack of consequences for actions (SEXUAL ASSAULT!) and Kurt was shit on every goddamn season. As I've said before, he shouldn't have to chase boys. They should be chasing him!
> 
> So I decided that, instead of trying to write something new within previously set parameters, I'd just start from the beginning. In this story, Kurt is happily, openly gay. He isn't shunned for it. He's not ridiculed for it. He's not bullied for it. We've all read that and I've written it too many times. Here, Kurt is just a kid, not Gay Kid.
> 
> I've given up the ghost of even pretending to like Rachel. I've tried, but I can't. I actually find her despicable. I have no specific plans to be horrible to her, but she's not the star and she won't be. She never should've been. The way everyone kowtowed to her was absurd. Rachel stans should read this no further.
> 
> I've also made Kurt a freshman while everyone else is a sophomore. I don't know WTF that age retcon was about, but it made no sense. Suddenly Kurt is older than Blaine? Which meant Blaine was a sophomore when he appeared and was already leading the Warblers? At fifteen? Given the Council and other very talented members? Nope. Oh, and he won't be featured here because gross.
> 
> Finally, Kinn was my first OTP and I still love and ship them. I'm not sure if they'll be the final pairing, but it's definitely a possibility. Also, no gay panic from Finn. I'm tired of reading and writing it. No gay panic from anyone. Let's just have a story where sexuality isn't an issue. BECAUSE IT SHOULDN'T BE.
> 
> Thank you, and gods bless.

Will Schuester looked askance at the ragtag team he had assembled and honestly believed he just might be able to make this work. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy. Not only was there not a lot of love lost amongst these disparate people, there was little to no trust. It felt a bit as though he had cobbled together the leaders of each stereotype who had haunted the hallways of Ferris Bueller’s high school.

There were the Dueling Divas, Rachel Berry and Mercedes Jones, the alleged leaders of the previous glee club. They were both incredibly talented, yet Will had the sense they would be driving him to drink sooner rather than later. Their disdain for each other was patently obvious for all to see and neither were apparently interested in presenting a unified front, though they were supposed to be teammates.

Their voices were technically very similar with almost identical ranges. The differences were in the small vocal subtleties. Mercedes was a light lyric soprano with a tremendous belting range that was supported with great technique, thanks to private lessons she had been receiving at her church since she was a child. That technique allowed her to hold notes for extended periods of time with little difficulty, and no pitch deviation or loss of dynamic. She was also particularly skilled with melisma and possessed a quick vibrato.

Her only real downsides were a lack of vocal agility, which could make her runs clumsy or sound labored; an unsupported lower range; and a tone that sometimes came across as childlike and immature.

Rachel, also a recipient of professional lessons, was a light lyric soprano who had an excellent technical grasp of her voice and understood exactly what it could do. Her technique was such that every note was fully supported. Her modal register was clear, bright, and dynamic. Her belts were achieved through proper mixing with her head voice and thus effortless. Her diction and intonation were flawless, and her delivery was more mature than that of Mercedes.

There were also some negative aspects. Her head voice was underdeveloped and somewhat thin and reedy; she could make the notes, but they didn’t sound particularly pretty. Her chest voice could be overly piercing, which, when she belted, often made the notes sound shrill, especially when they weren’t softened with vibrato. While her delivery was stellar, it was also overly theatrical, which, along with her penchant for melodrama, made her performances sound contrived and limited the genres she could convincingly sing. Her tone was often nasal.

These were minor issues which could be corrected with further training. The bottom line was that Will knew how lucky he was to have them. Hopefully he would have them for the next three years. He only prayed he could keep them from killing each other until after graduation.

Tina Cohen-Chang, a relatively shy but intelligent girl, had a similar voice, one more underdeveloped due to lack of training. During her audition, she had managed to combine the best aspects of Rachel and Mercedes, but from the videos he had seen of her previous performances, she lacked charisma and stage presence. Her own fear was getting the better of her. He wanted to help her with that.

He also knew he would have to tread carefully. Tina usually sang as part of an ensemble, not a featured soloist, and Will suspected that if he paid too much attention to her development, Rachel and Mercedes would resent both Tina and him. Their feelings for him were irrelevant; Glee disappeared if they didn’t start winning competitions. What he did not want was for the girls to turn and gang up on Tina. He rather believed she would just walk away rather than having to deal with such petty drama.

He glanced down at his watch and noted the time.

“Why haven’t they finished already?” Rachel loudly complained. “They’re running late and will set us back!”

“Oh, stop whining, Wonder Bread,” Mercedes sniped, rolling her eyes.

“They’re not running late, Rachel,” Will said with feigned patience, “we’re fifteen minutes early.” His eyes narrowed. “I would also suggest you be respectful of the jazz band, considering they win state competitions and will be performing our instrumentals out of kindness.”

Rachel bit her lip. She certainly didn’t want to cost herself the chance for live orchestration.

Will watched as the Cheerios began to whisper amongst themselves. He thought it was hysterical that neither they nor Sue suspected he knew exactly what they were trying to accomplish. In the long-term, it didn’t matter. He could always replace them if necessary. Right now he needed them to meet a quota, and as long as they didn’t do anything too terrible, he would suffer their schemes.

Quinn Fabray and Brittany Pierce had pleasant voices, but neither was particularly remarkable. Their soprano ranges were small and their notes unsupported, but they each had perfect pitch and could stay on key with no issues. He doubted he would feature them too heavily, but they would be very much needed in ensemble work and to soften the often strident tones of Rachel and Mercedes.

The real surprise was Santana Lopez. He hadn’t had her as a student and doubted he ever would. He taught Spanish and she was fluent, so all he knew about her was the gossip that had filtered down. He tried not to pay it too much attention, but it was difficult as the girl didn’t appear very interested in her reputation. In fact, it seemed the more notorious she became, the happier Santana was. He didn’t understand and didn’t need to, but he would be watching out for her.

She had a remarkable voice. Her range was half an octave greater than Mercedes, Rachel, and Tina, which actually gave her the greatest range of any member. The best part was that Santana could access her entire range with no difficulty and did so without any previous training. She was a natural. She was also a mezzo-soprano and thus brought a greater weight and gravitas to the overall sound of the club. She could even dip in and out of contralto range when necessary.

Like Mercedes, Santana could sing complex melisma and hold notes for extended periods with no loss of pitch. Her lower range, extending to the bottom of the third octave, was fully supported and the notes produced were full, rounded, and weighted. This meant she didn’t have that foggy, disconnected sound some singers produced when trying for lower notes.

Her belting range had a light, bright, and youthful coloring with a slight rasp, which made for an interesting effect. The notes she produced at the top of the fourth octave and into the fifth were made with excellent natural technique sounded effortless, with a consistent tone and timbre. She often used falsetto to achieve higher notes, which were airy with a warm and light quality; it also made it easy for her to flip registers easily, though she could produce high notes and even exclamations with her head voice.

Her only real deficits were a lack of formal training and the sometimes nasal tone Rachel also produced.

The boys were of a similar makeup and were lyric tenors, excepting Mike and Matt, who were baritones. He supposed Puck would technically be considered a baritenor, as he straddled both fachs, much like Santana did.

Finn and Artie had the most developed voices. Finn’s range was slightly greater while Artie’s tone was much smoother and had more warmth. Artie, like Mercedes, had a more versatile voice, while Finn, much like Rachel, was best suited to certain genres.

Will planned on featuring them more so than the other boys, as they would probably sound best when paired with the leading ladies. He lamented he would have to show more favoritism to Finn, whom he had blackmailed into joining. Not his finest hour and he certainly wasn’t proud of it, but Finn had charisma and it was needed.

Mike and Matt would mostly be chorale singers like Brittany and Quinn.

Puck, like Tina, was the wild card and Will didn’t know quite what to do with him. He supposed it was a good thing Puck seemed more interested in following Finn than being a soloist.

They still needed their elusive twelfth member in order to qualify for competition. If Will wrote a wish list, a countertenor would feature at the very top. He could do without a genuine bass just fine, but a countertenor would be the perfect bridge between the male and female voices, lending a unity to the overall sound that was currently missing.

He knew he had little hope of finding one. True countertenors were as rare and mysterious as unicorns. He had spoken with other show choir directors who shared his disappointment. A few had tried to use tenors singing in falsetto to supplement the sound, but the tone wasn’t as rich or as pure.

There was also the bonus that three of the boys played instruments. Puck played guitar, Artie played rhythm guitar, and Finn was a drummer. Conversely, none of the girls played an instrument. Will was frankly shocked that Rachel did not. He was really hoping at least one of them would have played piano. Then they wouldn’t have to rely so much on Brad, who was paid by the hour and directly out of their budget.

Rachel impatiently tapped a foot. “If they don’t clear out soon, I’m going to do …”

“Nothing,” Will sharply interrupted. “You will do _nothing_ , Rachel. We do not have the budget to hire professional players. The jazz band isn’t being compensated for their assistance, other than extra practice time, and if you alienate them, this club will not make it.”

He raised a brow. “Do you understand?”

She huffed and pouted, but nodded. Apparently Mr. Schuester wasn’t the pushover she had originally thought, which greatly altered the plans she had to best feature herself.

Feature the club, rather. Yes. Right.

Out of nowhere were gentle harp strings immediately followed by a mournful clarinet, quickly joined by an electric piano, electric and bass guitar, and some unknown brass instrument. Percussion and then synthesizer were added.

 _“Long ago and oh-so-far away …_ ”

Rachel perked up and cocked her head like Scooby Doo.

“… _I fell in love with you before the second show._ ”

She blinked owlishly as her heartrate increased frenetically. What sorcery was this?

“What?” Artie whispered, rolling forward and staring at the closed door.

“Is that a boy or a girl?” asked a confused Tina.

“Who cares?” asked an idle Puck. “That voice is sexy as fuck.”

“Puck!” Will hissed.

“Whatever, man. You know I’m right.”

Will did. He didn’t know who was singing, but he was beyond impressed. This was a person who not only was singing the hell out of the song, but who knew how to pick material which best showcased their voice. More intriguing, however, was that the voice highlighted the lyrics rather than dominating them. Thus was the listener forced to listen to the words, not just who was singing them.

The tone was both light and dark, with a weight that was, well, delicious. It was mature and full and as rich as chocolate. It was _gorgeous_. The vibrato was slow and smooth, rippling like a lazy river. And the notes! The notes were so _pure_ , ringing like bells, and each was fully supported. There was no struggle for breath, no matter the measure length, and each was of perfect pitch with no deviation.

“ _Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear, but you’re not really here; it’s just the radio._ ”

Puck gave a low whistle. “Shit, if a guitar makes someone sing like that, I’d never stop playing.”

“It’s a Carpenters song,” Santana said. She rolled her eyes and shrugged when everyone turned toward her. “What? My parents are big fans of the seventies, okay?”

“Is it a student?” Brittany wondered.

“Whoever it is sounds professional,” Quinn said demurely. “That’s a voice you pay money to hear.”

“ _Don’t you remember you told me you loved me, baby? You said you’d be coming back this way again, baby. Baby, baby, baby, oh baby, I love you. I really do._ ”

“It’s breaking my heart,” Mercedes whispered. “They’re breaking my heart.”

Matt nodded and looked with concern at Mike, who was rapidly blinking.

“You okay?” he gently asked.

“Feels,” Mike murmured.

Matt nodded again.

“ _Loneliness is such a sad affair and I can hardly wait to be with you again._ ”

“I could keep them warm,” Puck crowed with a filthy smirk.

“You’re revolting,” Quinn sniffed. “Do you have to make everything sexual?”

He scoffed. “Are you even listening, Female Draco Malfoy? That voice drips with sex. Can’t you hear it? It’s not just sad, it’s _yearning_. I know you get off on pretending not to have emotions, but open up your ears. Every fucking emotion you can possibly name? It’s all right there.”

She glared, annoyed when it had no effect.

“Noah’s right,” said a sage Rachel.

Puck curled a lip. “Did I give you authorization to use my government name? Nope. So don’t.”

She flinched and curled in on herself.

“The Puckhole’s right,” Santana said tersely. “It’s not just sadness; you have to listen to the emotions behind that. There’s pain and _hurt_ , desperation and longing, disappointment and hope. It’s everything all at once. It’s _human_.”

A surprised Will turned toward her and nodded. He said nothing because he knew she wouldn’t welcome it, but was pleased when a small smile registered on her face.

“ _What to say, to make you come again?_ "

Santana whirled on Puck. “Do not even _contemplate._ ”

He scowled. “Boy, you’re bossy.”

" _Come back to me again and play your sad guitar._ ”

“It’s like I’m listening to their _soul_ ,” Finn whispered.

He walked toward the door as if hypnotized and quietly opened it, stepping inside. All he knew was that he had to get _in there_. Hearing it was no longer enough. He needed to _see_ it. He needed to see the person who could just open their mouth and stop his heart.

Once the door was open, no one intended to be left behind. They crowded in behind Finn, who stood there, staring at the piano, at which sat the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.

He didn’t even know boys could _be_ beautiful, not like this. Boys were handsome or hot. He stared as he would at an oil painting, something unfathomable and unknowable, trying to decipher its subject and meaning.

He bit back a yelp when Rachel elbowed him out of the way and stood before him. He was glad she was short, because if she had blocked his view, he would’ve had to take steps.

It was a good thing she was in front of him, because he missed the greedy crazy in her eyes. Mercedes did not and shot her a heavy frown, which was promptly ignored. She had already decided this little boy needed to be brought on board and she did _not_ have time for Rachel and her wheelbarrow of insanity scaring him off.

Puck was then at Finn’s side, staring hungrily at the unknown boy. “Ooh, Daddy _like!_ ” He was so enraptured, he was unfazed by Finn stomping on his foot.

Santana grabbed his arm and dug her talons into the soft flesh beneath his biceps. “He’s just a kid! I will castrate you and put your balls in your mother’s soup to make matzah.”

Brittany craned her neck over Santana’s head, gasped softly, and began bouncing. “Oh, my god!” she breathed. She reached around and grabbed Mike, hauling him over to stand beside her. “Mikey, look!”

He smiled and nodded, his hand slipping into hers and grasping tightly.

The boy suddenly stood and left the piano, crossing to the center of the room and standing before the band. He then began conducting as he continued to sing.

“ _Don’t you remember you told me you loved me, baby?_ ”

He signaled the brass section with a few hand gestures and there was an explosion of trumpets and French horns which perfectly punctuated the tone of the piece.

“ _You said you’d be coming back this way again, baby._ ”

Another gesture and the percussion was brought to the forefront, underscoring the unrelenting heartbreak. Finn unconsciously followed along with imaginary sticks, souring when he felt the drummer had really needed to kick it up a notch and then failed. He would’ve made a much better choice.

The boy began dancing across the foreground, swaying slowly in perfect time with the beat, eyes closed and lost in the music. “ _Baby, baby, baby, oh baby_.”

He then held up two closed fists and the music stopped.

“ _I love you,_ ” he sang, his voice executing a small downshift in key and then ending in a beautifully resonant low note. He sighed. “ _I really do._ ”

He held the last note, brimming with ardent longing, for a ridiculous number of beats until finally allowing it to fall away as the band reentered to complete the final notes.

Immediately the players laid their instruments aside and gave him a standing ovation, whistling and clapping as though they were spectators in an arena.

The boy blushed profusely and looked down at the floor, where he was shuffling his feet.

“Thank you,” he said softly. He then cleared his throat and looked up. “Dylan, I really think you should be more featured than you currently are. The harp is a grossly underutilized instrument and you’re a brilliant musician. I was thinking we should consider adding you in the bridge right before Mandy’s entrance on the drums, just to …”

“Will?”

Will blinked and turned, forcing a smile when Todd Christiansen, the band director, stalked toward him. “Hi, Todd,” he said weakly, “I know we’re a little early.”

Todd gave him a cool look and glanced down at his watch. “We’ve booked the room until four and still have a few minutes left. Please wait quietly until Kurt has finished giving his notes.”

He turned and nodded at the boy, who looked at the new arrivals, startled at their blatant staring, and turned back to the band.

“Actually,” Kurt said, “I need to get going or I’ll be late for my shift. I’ll write up my notes and email them later tonight, if that works for everyone.”

The band all smiled and nodded at him, and began putting away their instruments.

Brittany took that as her cue and began literally bouncing over to the boy, dragging Mike with her. “Kurty! Kurty! Kurty!”

Kurt spun around, eyes lighting with surprise and joy, reaching out and catching the girl when she threw herself into his arms. “Hello, Sweetness! I’ve missed you. How was your summer?”

Brittany clung to him and shrugged. “It was okay. Lord Tubbington disappeared for three weeks and came back with a neck implant, so I’ve been using a tuning fork to demagnetize him and confuse the aliens.”

He pulled back and smiled at her. “Is it the pesky ones who stole your underwear to make an intergalactic slingshot?”

She nodded gravely. “You know how they are.”

Kurt laughed and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before noticing Mike.

“Well, hello, Studly Do Right,” he chirped.

Mike blushed and then beamed, pulling Kurt into his arms. “Hey, little one. I didn’t know you were in the band. Are you the new piano player?”

Kurt nodded. “Well, I’m the substitute piano player. The regular one is a senior this year and is holding down a job in addition to tons of AP classes, so I offered to fill in when needed.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

“I know and – hey! – can you not call me that anymore? I actually grew this summer!”

“I noticed,” Mike said, smiling, “but you still have those wittle baby cheeks.” He reached forward and pinched one. “Ooh! So _cute!_ ”

Kurt rolled his eyes and slapped the hand away. “Watch it, Pony Boy. Try that again and you’ll be pulling back a stump.”

Mike snickered.

“Brittany, Mike,” Rachel chirped, staring at Kurt with hearts in her eyes, “who’s your friend?”

Brittany gave an exaggerated blink and slowly turned around. “Who are you again?”

Rachel balked.

“Forget it, Rachel,” Mike snapped. “We’re not going to let you use Kurt to pacify your ego.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, excuse me! There’s certainly no reason to be rude! I just wanted to be introduced to a musician of such high caliber and extend an offer to join New Directions!”

“Nude Erections?” hissed a scandalized Kurt, staring at her with eyes the size of salad plates. “Aren’t you a little young for that? I certainly am.”

Rachel flushed and looked down at the floor before clearing her throat. “New Directions,” she repeated with more careful enunciation. She shook her head and forced a smile. “We’re the school’s official glee club!”

“Oh. No, thank you.”

“What?” screeched the baffled girl. “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering.”

“You’re a glee club,” he said slowly. “I assume that means you sing and dance. Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline.”

Rachel stomped her foot. “But _why?_ ”

He frowned. “That’s really none of your business and you’re interrupting.”

“How can you not want to join?” she howled.

He tilted his head and glared through narrowed eyes. “Perhaps it has to do with your offensive, obnoxious, and ham-fisted approach. You interrupted our rehearsal and my reunion with friends I haven’t seen for three months. You’ve been rude, arrogant, shrill, and ridiculously self-righteous. Now, if you’ll excuse me, and even if you won’t, I have better people to talk to than you.”

He turned his back on her.

Santana gripped Puck’s shoulder and moaned. “I just came,” she panted.

“Right there with you,” he said, eyes glazed over.

Rachel was about to have an aneurysm and the rest of the club hurried over in the hope of somewhat stabilizing the fallout.

“Um, excuse me, Kurt?”

“Yes?” the boy asked, turning around. He then craned his neck to look up at perhaps the tallest person he had ever met in his life. “May I help you?”

“My name is Finn Hudson.” His cheeks quickly stained red. “I just wanted to tell you that you have a beautiful voice,” he said softly.

“Oh,” Kurt whispered, as he too began to blush. “Well, thank you very much, Finn Hudson. I appreciate your kindness.”

Finn gave him a shy smile, nodded, and stepped back. He knew he wasn’t smart about a lot of things, but he had quickly learned from Rachel’s mistake. His blush deepened as he felt Kurt’s eyes still on him. He hoped he’d made a good impression. He also couldn’t help but feel Mike’s glare.

Oh. Well, then it was every man for himself. Sorry, Mike.

Rachel was incensed.

Dylan Chambers and Mindy McCandless, the harpist and drummer, stormed over.

“Nice try, Berry,” Mindy snapped, “but you’re not poaching our vocalist.”

Dylan sneered and wrapped an arm around Kurt. “Do you really think Kurt would give up being our featured soloist to wave a rose in your chorus line? Get serious.”

“It is a tremendous opportunity!” Rachel insisted. “A voice as beautiful as his should be showcased properly!”

“And how can your club do that better than we can?” Mindy demanded. “What part of _featured soloist_ escaped your grasp? Don’t forget, Berry, I was in chorus with you back in middle school. I _know_ you and I know how you operate.”

She turned to Kurt. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to join them?”

“Positive,” Kurt said quickly.

Mindy spun around to face Rachel, a savage grin on her face. “As I said, I _know_ you, Berry. You walked in here and saw a beautiful boy with an enormous voice and charisma to spare. I won’t let you use him to advance your own delusions and then spit him out when he won’t play by your selfish and self-aggrandizing rules.”

She glared. “Or did you forget poisoning me in seventh grade so that you could take my solo?”

“That was never proven,” Rachel shouted, “and his voice is adequate, but not extraordinary.”

Kurt paled and meant to step back, only to be held tightly in place by his friends.

“Santana!” Brittany bellowed. “Attack!”

“Oh, it’s on, bitches!” screeched a delighted Santana, flexing her fingers and taking off her earrings, pressing them into Puck’s hand. She left on her rings. “Hold my shit.”

“Gladly.”

Rachel’s eyes widened with alarm as Santana bounded at her from behind while the Jazz Band materialized in full force right in front of her.

Kurt whistled through his fingers. “Enough of this!”

Everyone froze.

He breathed heavily through his nose. “Ms. Berry, I can truly say without bombast that you are the most insufferable and repellent individual I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I don’t know who elected you your club’s spokesperson, but their judgment is clearly impaired. If your goal is to recruit more members, then your behavior here today will certainly do you no favors.

“As for my adequate voice, the range in which I can comfortably sing is three and a half octaves. My total range is more than five. I have received professional training since I was four years old and, by professional, I mean _classical_. I sing opera. I’m fifteen years old. As you _should_ know, I won’t reach vocal maturity for almost another two decades. I am here only as a favor to Dylan and Mindy, both dear friends of mine, one of whom you have grievously insulted.”

He stared at her. “I wish you good luck, Ms. Berry. Your attitude suggests you will certainly need it.”

He then promptly dismissed her, leaving her steaming, and turned toward the band.

“I'm sorry that rehearsal ended on these very sour notes. I’ll email my suggestions tonight and look forward to our next meeting.”

The band began protesting, insisting he had done nothing wrong, while glaring at Rachel.

Kurt gave Dylan and Mandy a quick hug, before embracing both Mike and Brittany, kissing their cheeks.

“We’ll call you tonight, okay?” Mike murmured. “Don’t let her get to you.”

Kurt shook his head. “I won’t. It’s all water under the bridge, much like I’m sure her dreams of stardom soon will be.”

Puck shivered with desire at that sick burn.

“I love you, Kurty,” whispered a sorrowful Brittany.

“Hey,” he said gently, wiping her tears, “you didn’t do anything wrong, Sweetness. Seeing you was the best part of my day, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Santana saw red. That fucking evil garden gnome had made Brittany cry! Oh, she was going to pay. And she would also pay for insulting that absolutely gorgeous pocket gay who treated Brittany like the queen she was. Anyone who respected Brittany received Santana's endless support, which included getaway cars and drivebys when necessary.

Kurt quickly gathered up his sheet music and stowed it in his backpack, before giving a nervous nod to Mr. Christiansen, who sighed and muttered an apology. He would definitely be having words with Will about this.

Kurt walked toward the door, stopping next to Finn.

“It was nice to meet you, Finn Hudson,” he said, holding out his hand.

Finn took it with aplomb, marveling at the softness of the skin. Up close, Kurt smelled really, _really_ good, like rain and grapefruit. He kind of just wanted to lick him.

“Uh, the pleasure was mine.”

They held each other’s hand for just a moment too long. Both began blushing and Kurt quickly relinquished his grasp. He was then inadvertently ensnared in another gaze.

Puck eye-fucked Kurt and licked his chops.

Kurt widened his eyes and dashed away, only to be stopped at the door. He threw down his bag and fell to his knees.

“Artie!”

He leaned forward and grabbed Artie in a fierce hug. Artie clung to him for a long moment and then reluctantly pulled back, only to moan when Kurt pressed a light kiss to his lips.

Mercedes stared. “Huh?”

“No _way_ ,” hissed a furious Puck.

Finn felt his heart seize in his chest.

“Sorry,” Kurt said sadly, now unable to meet the other boy's eyes. “I forgot I’m not supposed to do that anymore.”

“I didn’t mind,” Artie murmured, cupping Kurt's cheek in his hand.

Kurt swallowed heavily and blew out a shaky breath. “You said …”

“I know,” Artie warbled. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Bye,” Kurt whispered, grabbing his bag and running out into the hall.


	2. Why's It So Hard

Will spent the first five minutes of their first official meeting trying to get his temper under control. This was all the more difficult because Rachel kept making impatient little noises and fidgeting in her chair. He then understood she was untroubled by her behavior toward that young man, while the rest of them were quite obviously appalled.

Santana was swept up in the novel experience of having to corral her girlfriend. Usually it was Brittany who was forced to step in and keep Santana from committing some minor offense that would inevitably be added to her police record but, right now, Brittany was all but frothing at the mouth as she tried to escape Santana’s hold and attack Rachel.

Brittany’s righteous anger was making Santana shiver with pleasure, especially when Brittany hissed that this would not be over until she had tasted Rachel’s blood. Part of Santana really wanted to turn the other girl loose and watch her work Rachel over like a piñata, but she didn’t want her baby to get the reputation Santana herself enjoyed. Besides, Brittany sadly had a conscience and would thus feel guilty afterwards, which was something Santana wouldn’t allow.

Since Schuester was too busy fighting his own conscience, Santana decided to move this along.

“How do you know Kurt, baby?” she asked.

Brittany’s lip slowly uncurled and she released a breath that sounded more like a growl, which was just hot as fuck. “Mikey and I have known Kurty for years,” she said tightly. “He’s our best friend. We’ve been in the same dance classes forever.”

“He’s a dancer?” asked an interested Puck. He nodded. “Makes sense. It sure has done his smoking tight body a world of good.”

Quinn rolled her eyes.

Puck closed his own eyes and recalled Kurt dancing, his tight pants stretching across a gravity-defying ass that was in a class of its own. Seriously, that boy’s ass was spectacular. Like, _stupendous ass_ was happening here. That ass was so amazing, it should have tribute websites.

And then there was _that bulge_.

“Yo, Hebrew National!” Mercedes barked. “Since when are you into dudes? I didn’t know you were bi.”

Puck was unfairly startled from his fantasy and slowly turned to glare at her. “Since always, and I’m not; I’m pan. I don’t need to check off some random box on a form to explain myself to you or anyone else. The Puckzilla likes people for who they are, not what junk they have.”

She raised a brow. “That’s actually … very cool of you.”

“That might mean something if I have a shit what you thought.”

Mercedes heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what his problem was, but she was over it. She had tried to be nice to him, obliquely to build support against Rachel, but he had no interest in being friendly with anyone but Finn.

Mike was busy staring holes in the back of Rachel’s skull. Why did she have to be such a bitch? There was no reason! The way she had attacked Kurt was so cruel and unnecessary, and what was even the point of it?

“Kurt was right, you know,” he seethed, “about the probability of us getting our twelfth. The Jazz Band is going to tell everyone what happened. I saw a few of them even recording it on their phones. It’s only a matter of hours before all of General Band, Marching Band, and the Orchestra know what Rachel did. Those are the very same kids we were going to try and recruit!

“And it won’t stop there. All of those kids are nerds and geeks. They’ll spread it to all of their individual cliques and it will be viral by tomorrow.” He angrily shook his head. “No one’s going to join us now. You might as well dismiss us, Schue, because this is over.”

Matt stared at his friend with large eyes, unused to hearing Mike speak so much all at once. He placed a hand on Mike’s forearm and began kneading the muscle. If Mike stayed this angry, he was going to get cramps.

Mike sighed and gave him a pained smile.

Rachel sank lower in her seat.

Will again debated about what to say before deciding it might be best for him to remain quiet and let the other kids point out Rachel’s utter failure and what it could cost them. He had heard from other faculty members that she tended to ignore their criticisms. Perhaps if she heard it from more than one source at a time, the message might start to sink in. He would step in at the end to drive it home.

“Does anyone else have anything to say to Rachel?” he asked, ignoring her shocked look of abject betrayal.

Finn halfway raised his hand, though he refused to look at Rachel. “I just don’t get why that was necessary, Rachel. How did you think acting like that was in any way okay? Kurt seems like a really nice guy! He was just doing his thing and you attacked him because he didn’t want to sing with us? So what? He doesn’t owe us anything.”

Mercedes and Tina nodded throughout his entire monologue.

Quinn sneered. “I guess her _professional_ lessons didn’t teach her anything about actually _being_ professional. That was just embarrassing.”

“Can I get an amen?” Mercedes demanded. “I really don’t know how I should feel, Berry. Had you tried that mess with me, I would have just knocked you into next year, but I think his complete _shredding_ of you was far more effective. And what the hell was that about you poisoning McCandless?”

“I didn’t know she had a peanut allergy!” Rachel squawked.

Santana snorted. Loudly. She then turned to Brittany. “So Kurt is in your ballet class?”

The other girl nodded. “Tap and modern jazz, too.”

“He was also in our hip-hop class,” Mike added. “He’s really an awesome dancer. He can memorize insane amounts of choreography right off the bat and then execute it immediately, but he can’t freestyle to save his life. He gets flustered and starts tripping over his own feet.”

Puck grunted. “Big feet.”

Santana gently poked her girlfriend. “I never saw him when I was picking you up from classes this summer.”

Brittany twisted her ponytail around her finger and shook her head. “Kurty left town after he graduated from Jefferson. He went to visit his granny in France and then went to SpaceCamp in Orlando.”

She looked at her hands as tears began streaking down her face. “I asked him to go to Disney World and get Jasmine’s autograph for me because she looks a little like you, even though you’re way hotter in crop tops and harem pants.”

Santana gave her a soft smile.

“And he did because Kurty loves me and said it should be illegal for me ever to be sad. So Rachel just totally broke the law because I _am_ sad, but I don’t even care now because _Kurty_ is sad and that’s just so much worse!”

She turned and buried her face in Santana’s neck, continuing to cry silently.

Santana rubbed soothing circles on her back while she glared venomously at Rachel. “Berry,” she snarled, “I can’t kill you on campus because there are cameras, but this isn’t over.”

“I didn’t know he was Brittany’s friend,” Rachel whispered.

“It shouldn’t have mattered!” Artie exploded. “What gives you the right to treat _anyone_ like that? Even though Kurt was the one to end it, you still humiliated him in front of strangers _and_ his peers! And Satan was right: this _isn’t_ over. Kurt has a long memory.”

“So he’ll hold a grudge?” asked an interested Quinn.

He scoffed. “Kurt Hummel doesn’t hold grudges. He remembers _facts_.”

Rachel looked up slowly, eyes huge as sweat broke out across her brow.

Artie gave her a poisonous smile and made a cooing noise. “Does the name sound familiar? Perhaps you’ve heard of his father, _the United States Congressman_? The one who champions the performing arts in the public school system?”

Will sighed and closed his eyes. “Are you getting this yet, Rachel? Your rash and ridiculously childish behavior has cost us a vocalist we desperately need. Mr. Hummel is a high tenor, very possibly a countertenor, and if his range is truly that wide, he could hit notes anywhere between baritone and soprano.

“He’s trained in opera, which means he’s studied music theory and performance. He’s a skilled pianist, so he not only can read music, but might also possibly write it. Did you see how defensive the band was of him? They obviously adore him and they took like ducks to water to his direction. He was writing new arrangements for them. I hope your tantrum was worth it, because if it wasn’t, well, then we certainly lost today.”

“I’m sorry!” Rachel wailed.

“Are you?” Will asked sharply. “See, that’s the problem, Rachel. I honestly can’t tell if you are or not, and if you can’t convince us of your feelings, how are you ever going to convince an audience?”

She gasped before her eyes narrowed in outrage. “Are you calling me a bad actress?”

Will raised a brow. “Well, I don’t know, Rachel. Was your apology an example of your _acting?_ ”

She flushed and fell silent.

“I thought you had to actually, you know, _act_ before calling yourself an actor,” Matt mumbled.

Mike and Quinn snickered as Puck turned around and offered Matt a fist to bump.

“How do you know Kurt, Artie?” Tina blurted at the object of her affection.

As everyone turned to stare at the boy in question, Artie flushed and folded his hands in his lap. He studied them intently for a few moments before answering.

“Kurt and I used to date,” he said softly.

An outraged Mike jumped to his feet. “Wait, that was you? You’re the bastard who dumped him?”

“Language,” Will softly interjected.

“Schue, is this a safe space or not?” Puck demanded. “You made this big deal and sold us a story that it _is_ , that we’re supposed to be some kind of fucked-up family who can rely on each other and on you, but every time we say something you don’t like, you just shut us down. What the hell is the point of all this if you don’t let us express ourselves _honestly?_ ”

“Are you going to do the same with our song choices?” asked an arch Quinn. “You say you want us to sing pieces that reflect our lives and feelings, but is that true?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or will you dismiss our work as inappropriate because it makes you uncomfortable?”

Will stared at them.

Finn absently scratched his neck. “Uh, they’re kind of right, Mr. Schue.”

Will closed his eyes and sighed. “I know they are.” He shook his head. “Look, guys, I hear what you’re saying, I do, but I need you to recognize that we’re wading into some questionable territory. You all know Figgins and Sylvester are just looking for reasons to shut us down. The easiest way for them to do it is by coming after me. If an allegation could ever be made that I was in any way inappropriate with you, I’m out, and I don’t mean just from this room. I’d be fired and my license could be revoked.”

They regarded him solemnly.

He left the lectern and stood before them. “In no way do I want to limit you. I can’t tell you how important Glee was for me when I was sitting in those seats. I want you to have that same experience, but we have very real threats facing us. I need you to be on guard.”

“So what do we do?” Mercedes asked.

“Can’t we just sing what we want in here?” Finn asked. “If we ever actually get to compete, then we can be more appropriate or whatever.”

They all exchanged glances, slowly nodding.

“How’d you ever score a hot piece like that, Sit-n-Spin?” Puck rudely asked Artie.

Artie set his jaw. “Oh, big words from a douchecanoe whose Cipro prescriptions are dispensed by the pound.”

Santana burst out laughing. Quinn guffawed and quickly covered her mouth.

Puck’s eyes blazed even as his face burned. “That was pretty good,” he softly acknowledged.

Artie waved a hand. “Look, I’m only going to say this once, so don’t ask me about it again. Kurt and I dated for two years. I loved him. Very much. I still do. It was hard enough being separated by grade and then school, but …”

He sighed. “Kurt is gay, but I … I don’t think I totally am.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that to him, string him along when I’m unsure. I love him too much to do that. I didn’t break up with him because I didn’t love him. I did it _because_ I love him, because he deserves the things I can’t give him.”

Mike sat down. “Well, that’s … that’s good of you, I guess.” He scowled. “You really hurt him, though. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Artie warbled, “but he would have been hurt regardless. Better now than in another year. I had to do it before he came to McKinley. This is supposed to be a fresh start for him.”

Finn frowned. “What does that mean?”

Artie looked away. “We, uh, we weren’t treated very well at Jefferson.”

Santana leaned forward. “Explain.”

“The jocks never left us alone,” Artie whispered. “Being a _cripple_ brings its own set of prejudices, but boys dating each other? I honestly don’t know who had it worse. They would steal my wheelchair, give me wedgies, lock me in port-a-crappers and then tip them over.”

“That’s outrageous!” Rachel shrieked. “No one did anything?”

“The administration didn’t care,” Artie spat. “They just handed out platitudes like _boys will be boys_ and _character development_. The school wasn’t monitored like McKinley is, so there was never any proof, and it was easier for them to dismiss me and Kurt than it was an entire pack of idiots.”

“What did they do to Kurty?” Brittany warbled.

Artie was silent for a long moment before angry tears began slipping down his face. “They hit him. A lot.” He slammed his hands on his armrests. “And there was nothing I could do!” he screamed. “They would knock me over and go after him. Sometimes there were as many as seven.”

“Fucking animals,” Finn mumbled.

Puck stood, walked over, and crouched down before Artie, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, has any of that happened here? Because if it has, I want you to tell me now and I’ll take care of it.”

“Me too,” Santana, Matt, Mike, and Finn said.

Artie shook his head. “No. That’s why we chose McKinley even though we were both accepted into the arts program at Carmel. McKinley has a strict anti-bullying policy, so we knew we’d be safe here.”

“Kurty never told me any of this,” whispered a devastated Brittany. She looked to Mike, who shook his head sadly.

“He didn’t want you to know,” Artie admitted. “Dance classes … that was where he was free. His time with you and Mike is special to him. None of the bad stuff matters when he’s with you.”

Mike was melting into a warm puddle of goo.

“So you knew about us,” Brittany guessed. “Why didn’t we know about you?”

Artie frowned, thinking of the best way to explain this. “Kurt is a very complex person. He compartmentalizes things. At school, he’s a student. At dance class, he’s a dancer. At home, he’s a congressman’s son. At his lessons, he’s a pianist and an opera singer. He tries very hard not to let those worlds bleed over into each other. I don’t know why. I’ve asked him, but he’s never been able to explain it.”

“Why didn’t his dad ever do anything?” Tina asked.

Artie sighed. “Because he didn’t know and Kurt refused to tell him. So I did. That did not go down well. Kurt is strong and he’s a fighter; he gave as good as he got. He’s got a brown belt in Aikido because his dad made sure Kurt would be able to defend himself.”

“Bitchin’,” Puck said with admiration.

The idea of that hotass little nugget spinning and punching and kicking made him even _hotter_ , which Puck hadn’t known was possible. Kind of like a superhero. His mind immediately went to Kurt in a leather suit that matched his eyes. Fantasy Kurt made all these gorgeous grunting orgasm noises as he kicked ass and took names. And then phone numbers and addresses, just so he could remind everyone later how easy it was.

Then it hit him. Kurt was single.

Hell to the motherfucking yes!

“Are you okay?”

Puck jumped when the other boy's fingers snapped in his face.

“Yeah,” Puck said. “I was just thinking about you and Kurt getting your mack on. You ever hit that?”

“Jesus, Puckerman! We started dating when he was _thirteen!_ ”

Puck shrugged. “He’s not thirteen anymore.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Nah. I’m just horny all the time.”

Quinn cleared her throat. “I think you’re giving Mr. Schuester a coronary.”

Indeed, Will was gripping the lectern with his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

“Aw, come on, Schue!” Puck snickered. “I thought you were supposed to be the cool teacher, the one who could relate to us crazy and pesky kids!”

“Are we actually going to sing today or what?” Mercedes whined.

Rachel began vibrating in her seat, of which Will took note.

“Obviously not,” Mike spat, “since the Jazz Band wanted nothing to do with us today.”

“And not until we set down some ground rules,” Will said.

They all groaned.

* * *

The session ran into overtime because most of the kids had very strident opinions about how they wanted the club managed, many of which took Will by surprise. He had little choice, however, but to accept their suggestions because they each had the option of walking away. If they did, Finn would go with them. Regardless of blackmail, he couldn’t sing if there was no one to sing with him.

Puck and Mercedes had led the charge to define Will’s role as strictly faculty sponsor. As far as they were concerned, and the other members had agreed, he was there to monitor their singing progress, both individually and collectively, not dictate their feelings or behavior. They did, however, promise to curtail themselves in public, which meant audience appropriate selections for assemblies and any theoretical competitions.

Rehearsal pieces, however, were fair game. Will didn’t like it, worried about Sylvester and what the Gleerios might report to her, but it was apparent the kids wouldn’t bend on that point, so he had reluctantly agreed. He rather suspected he was making it a bigger issue than it actually was and realized he was more nervous about taking over than he had anticipated.

Also, clubs were supposed to be student-led. One of their primary purposes was to instill and develop leadership skills within their members.

That discussion then segued into student representatives, an argument onto which Quinn had pounced. She brought up a point Kurt had actually raised earlier: who had put Rachel in charge? Quinn didn’t remember a vote and insisted one was very much needed.

Rachel immediately nominated herself, listing her many extracurriculars and the clubs she helped run, and then burst into tears when no one seconded it.

A loud debate occurred for about fifteen minutes, in which the kids, led by Artie and Mercedes, decided what qualities were needed in a leader. In the end, several nominations were made and two captains were selected. Will wasn’t terribly shocked but pleased when Finn became the male captain.

Once again, the surprise was Santana.

Brittany had nominated her girlfriend because she liked when Santana was in charge and felt it should be all the time. Silence reigned for several pregnant moments before the nomination was seconded by Quinn, and then Puck and Mike.

Quinn successfully argued that Santana was popular and respected by their peers, either despite her reputation or because of it. Everyone knew the name Santana Lopez, even those who had never laid eyes on her. Also, people were much more likely to turn up to an assembly because Santana simply ordered them to do so. In a fundamental way, she had more power than the faculty and Figgins combined.

Santana’s face had cycled through a whirlwind of emotions, from shock to outrage and then disbelief, followed by pride, fear, and annoyance. At last, she begrudgingly accepted the post. She then immediately made Mercedes her lieutenant, admitting she had no clue how to run a club and no real idea about music other than what she liked. Mercedes, as a member from the previous year, could help with the more technical aspects.

As far as Santana herself was concerned, her primary job was to keep people motivated, which she planned to do through fear. She also wanted a buffer because she thought Finn was an idiot and would probably kill him sooner rather than later. She didn’t add that last part because she was a kind and generous person.

Finn thought her idea was a good one. He didn’t say so aloud because he wasn’t as stupid as Santana believed and really wasn’t interested in getting decked by a chick that day. He gave Artie an apologetic look before selecting Tina, for much the same reasons as Santana had chosen Mercedes.

Artie couldn’t have cared less. He didn’t want the job and knew that Tina did, so it was fine with him. He was in more advanced classes than most of the others and could put that time to better use.

Finn had mostly chosen Tina because he suspected Puck was planning on using Artie to get close to Kurt. He knew Puck probably stood a better chance at actually becoming friends with Artie than he did, so he’d have to find another way. He and Brittany had always gotten along, and he and Mike were both on the football team, so Finn hoped he might get them to put in a good word for him. Preferably without them knowing they were doing it.

Rachel sulked and pouted about the whole thing, but held her tongue. She seriously thought about resigning and walking out, but she knew that, as it currently stood, the club was still not competitively viable, so her departure would have no impact. She also knew that, despite what she would have liked to believe, Mercedes and Tina were good singers who had experience. The club would just use them to replace her.

No. It would be better to wait and bide her time until they had a few more members. Once they did, and after she had proven herself as the irreplaceable powerhouse vocalist that she was, she would be able to wrest control from Santana and rule the club with Finn at her side. She was already planning their solos.

Finn had been having an animated talk with Tina and Brittany when he felt a beam of crazy being leveled at him. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and found Rachel staring at him as though he were the Heisman trophy. He barely repressed a shudder and looked at Puck, who, of course, was laughing at him. Quinn then managed to catch his eye and she offered a short nod.

Finn heaved a sigh of relief. He had thought after he and Quinn had broken up last year, she would do everything in her power to make life miserable for him, but she had just silently offered to keep Rachel off his back. He knew she had no reason to do it other than because she still loved him in a way.

Most people didn’t know it because Quinn was usually such a bitch, but she could be a really good friend when she cared enough about someone. That actually wasn’t too many people. In fact, the only person other than Finn to have endeared themselves to her was Brittany.

Finn suspected that, after today, and especially given the way she had gone after Rachel, Quinn would be adding Kurt Hummel to that rarified list, even if he would never join Glee. He hoped it was true, because then maybe Quinn could also help him convince Kurt to go on a date with him.

He didn’t understand why he was so into Kurt, especially so quickly. Finn usually took his time to make a decision, usually too much time. When time ran out, he often was unable to make a decision at all.

But he _really_ liked Kurt, especially his voice. Wow, what a voice! It was so beautiful, just like Kurt’s face.

Finn sighed. _Beautiful_.

Will then gave them an assignment for their next meeting. Each of them was to make a list of ten songs they liked and felt they sung well, but five had to be of different genres. He briefly went over some examples and then listed a few websites that offered further instruction, telling them to email him with any questions. He then dismissed them.

Rachel made a beeline toward him to list her many objections about the running of the club, but Will flatly told her the rules were voted on and approved. He had no intention of overruling her teammates simply because she was dissatisfied. If she didn’t like it, she was welcome to leave and he wished her nothing but success.

“You’re kicking me out?” she gasped, clutching her chest.

He slammed his bag down on the desk. “I did no such thing, Rachel, and these theatrics have to stop. You’re not going to get your way simply because you demand it. You are no more or less important than anyone else, no matter what you think. If you can’t accept this, I’m telling you it’s best to surrender your dreams of Broadway now, because there is absolutely no way you could speak to a director like you just spoke to me and then expect to be hired. It’s much more likely you’d be escorted from the building and then blackballed.

“This is a _team_ , Rachel. If you can’t handle being part of one, don’t come back.”

He then stormed from the room.

“I can’t believe he spoke to me that way!” she trilled.

“Why the hell not?” Puck demanded.

“This isn’t your club, Rachel,” Finn said, “and it never was. It belongs to everyone who wants to be here.”

She ignored them. “Wait until I tell my dads!”

“Oh, my god,” Matt muttered. “What a spoiled brat.”

“Good luck with that, Rachel,” Quinn said sweetly. “Also be sure to tell them how you pissed off the son of their elected official. That should go over just swell.”

Rachel’s face was puzzled. “That was hours ago. I’m sure Kurt got over it.”

Artie snorted. “Not likely. Face it, Rachel: Schue is a soft touch. That’s the _only_ reason you’re still here. If you had pulled that crap last year with Ryerson, you’d be out the door and you know it. Don’t act like you’re the injured party here. And if you or your fathers try to get Schue removed, I’ll be sure to call _my congressman_ and tell him why.”

He rolled from the room, Puck’s delighted laughter echoing around him.

Rachel huffed and stalked away.

“What a little asshole,” Mercedes observed.

“Are you going to class tonight?” Mike asked Brittany.

She nodded. “Do you think Kurty will be there?”

“He never skips. Do you need a ride?”

“Yes, please. Thanks, Mikey!”

He smiled and left with Matt, followed by Mercedes and Tina, who had a shopping date.

Santana, Quinn, and Finn exchanged a glance.

“How long do you think it will take for Berry to quit?”

“Not long enough,” Quinn replied, turning to Finn. “You need to stay away from her. She took a picture of the roster and now has all of our numbers and email addresses. She’ll probably call you tonight.”

He sighed. “Why me?”

She shrugged. “I'm sure she thinks she can turn you against Santana and then the two of you could stage a coup.”

“What do chickens have to do with anything?”

Santana threw up her hands and walked off, muttering under her breath. 


	3. He's a Man

Kurt wiped his brow as he opened the front door. It was unseasonably warm and had made the walk from the shop feel longer than ever. He shifted his backpack to the other shoulder and placed his keys in the dish on the hall table.

“I’m home!”

He unshouldered his bag and set it on the floor, annoyed he had been assigned so much homework for the upcoming weekend. None of it was really challenging or interesting, but would take up a significant chunk of time, which he just thought was a waste. At least he had already read the book for his lit class. He suspected the teacher would assign a paper, so he had jotted down some ideas in lieu of taking notes during class.

“In the kitchen, son!” his dad called out.

Kurt smiled and walked down the hall. “Hey, Dad! I’m glad you’re back. How was Washington?”

Burt gave him a grin and then sighed. “More boring than you’d expect. Just a lot of people talking about the same problems over and over again without actually attempting to do anything about them.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose. “Disillusioned, huh? Well, that’s why they need you! They need a man of action who can force them to get their heads out of their butts.”

Burt laughed and pulled his son to him, dropping a kiss on the top of Kurt’s head. “I missed you, buddy.”

Kurt burrowed against his father. “I missed you too,” he softly whispered.

“How’s school?” He frowned when Kurt pulled a face. “What’s going on?”

Kurt sighed. “Actually, the first week has been pretty great, except for today.”

He went to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and then launched into an accounting of his argument with Rachel Berry.

Burt was incredulous. “So a girl you’ve never met in your life just came up to you, started making demands on your time and talent, and then insulted you when you didn’t dance to her tune?”

Kurt nodded. “Pretty much. I guess she must be used to getting whatever she wants and doesn’t know how to deal with someone telling her no. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

His father snorted. “Sounds like her hamster not only fell off the wheel, but died a while back.” He shook his head and grabbed a pear from the bowl on the table. Taking a bite, he eyed his son. “You sure you _don’t_ want to join that club of hers?”

Kurt frowned. “Honestly, I didn’t know the school even _had_ a glee club. There’s so many student clubs, though, maybe they advertised on the board and it just got covered up.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t think I do, not if she’s in any leadership role. She would make me miserable just to spite me.”

“Uh huh,” Burt said. “What else?”

He narrowed his eyes when Kurt immediately looked away. A-ha! So his dad-dar was in fine working order.

“I’m home!” a voice shouted.

Kurt jumped to his feet. “Riley!”

He then tore out of the kitchen.

Burt chuckled and rose to follow him. Arriving in the hall a scant second later, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to watch his youngest vault himself into the arms of his eldest. Riley, as always, caught Kurt mid-leap and held him close.

Burt smiled at the sight. He missed their mother every single day, but gave thanks she had gifted him with these two precious boys. Riley was Suzanne’s from a previous marriage to an abusive asshole who had drunk himself into an early grave, and good riddance to foul trash. Not long after he had married Suzanne and adopted Riley, she had fallen pregnant with Kurt. Five years later, she was gone. None of them had ever really gotten over it, but they had each other and that counted for a lot.

“I missed you, Mischa,” Riley said, kissing Kurt’s nose.

Kurt giggled and tightened his hold. “You’ve only been gone a few weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss the hell out of you,” Riley smiled, gently placing Kurt back on the floor and turning to their father, holding out an arm. “I missed you too, Dad.”

Burt held both of them. “Good to have you home, son. How’s OSU?”

Riley blew out a breath. “The work is intense, but it’s going pretty well. I’m learning a lot and mostly enjoying it.”

Burt nodded. “Meet any girls?”

Kurt snickered. “Yeah, Ri, meet any girls?”

Riley raised a brow and looked down at him. “Meet any boys?”

Kurt blushed and averted his eyes.

Riley smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Burt forced a smile. He knew his boy was still smarting from his breakup with Artie. Burt had always liked Artie and probably always would, and even though the kid had broken up with Kurt for all the right reasons, his boy was still hurt and that was not okay.

He wasn’t sure Kurt was ready for a new relationship, but if there was a boy who had managed to turn his head, maybe it was a blessing. He wanted his son to be happy.

“Well,” Burt began, “maybe you can convince your brother to tell me what really happened at school today.”

“Dad!” Kurt protested.

Burt grinned and then told Riley everything Kurt had said about that Rachel girl.

Riley scowled. “She sounds like a nut, Mischa. I’m glad you’re not going to be spending time with her. It seems like she was really threatened by you. Either that, or she wants to use you.”

Burt grunted. He hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but he supposed it made sense. No wonder Riley was majoring in psychology.

“I brought pizza,” Riley announced.

“You’re the best son ever,” Burt said, laughing when Kurt punched his shoulder.

“I think there’s still some salad in the fridge,” Kurt said, heading back to the kitchen.

“When are you going to stop with the rabbit food, Mischa?” Riley whined as he followed. “How much skinnier could you possibly need to be?”

Burt shook his head and brought up the rear.

* * *

Riley gave his brother a baleful look. “I specifically got the toppings you like and you’re showing no appreciation for my efforts.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I have dance class tonight, Ri. I don’t need all those carbs sitting heavy in my stomach.”

Riley’s eyes sparkled. “That means you’ll be seeing Mike, right?”

Kurt gave him a flat look. “Mike doesn’t like me like that, Riley, and I wish you’d stop insisting he does. He’s one of my best friends. I don’t want to be uncomfortable around him.”

Riley held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, fine, but Mike is a really great guy who has a lot of the same interests you do. He’s also pretty cute.”

Kurt pulled a face. “Don’t talk about boys being cute. It’s just weird.”

“Sure, as soon as you stop chatting up girls and trying to get me dates.”

Burt roared with laughter.

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” Kurt said, eyes large, dewy, and brimming with innocence. “After all, you’re not getting any younger.”

Burt hunched over and began pounding the table with a fist, unable to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

Riley flushed. “I don’t need help with my love life.”

“Of course not,” Kurt agreed. “You don’t have one.”

Riley sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. When would he learn not to tease his brother? Kurt always gave back far worse than he received. He turned and glowered at his father.

“You can stop laughing _any time now_ , Dad.”

Burt raised his head, tears streaming from his eyes. “No, I don’t think I can.”

Kurt giggled and they exchanged a high five.

“I think this might actually qualify as abuse,” said a mournful Riley. “I need an 800 number.”

“We _are_ your 800 number, Riley,” Kurt chirped. “We keep you honest.”

Burt nodded and then smirked. “Riley, you might want to ask your brother about the boy he met today, the one who’s not in his dance class and makes him blush like a Care Bear.”

Kurt’s eyes hardened to chips of sky blue topaz as he slowly turned to stare at his father. Burt lasted only seconds before he began squirming. He certainly wasn’t afraid of his baby. No, not at all.

“Tell me everything about him,” Riley demanded of his brother.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Kurt said after a long stretch of silence. “He heard me singing with the band. Afterwards, he came up to me and introduced himself. Then he told me I had a beautiful voice.”

He shrugged. “That’s it.”

“Like hell,” Riley objected. “I need some vital statistics here, Mischa.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “His name is Finn Hudson, he’s a sophomore, the quarterback of the football team, and he’s very, very tall. Taller than you, Riley. It’s a little overwhelming, honestly.”

“You pulled the quarterback? Way to go, stud! Is he hot?”

Kurt’s eyes filled with horror before he rolled them at his brother’s ridiculous _everything,_ and then heaved a tremendous sigh. “He's not unfortunate looking, all right?”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“What! Nothing!”

Riley nodded. “Smart. Play hard to get and make him chase you.”

Kurt gaped. “That’s not what I’m doing!”

Riley laughed. “Yeah, right. Okay, Kurt, play it cagey.”

“I’m not Mata Hari, Riley! Finn’s just a nice guy who likes my voice. So what?”

The blush on his face didn’t help his protestations. He silently cursed his flawless complexion and his very flawed family.

“I saw Artie,” he said quietly. “It was really awkward.”

Burt and Riley said nothing, content to eat their pizza until Kurt was ready to talk about it.

“I kissed him!” Kurt blurted out, cringing. “It was just reflex, I swear. I hadn’t seen him in months and then he was just suddenly _there_ and … and I kissed him.”

He dropped his head in his hands and groaned with embarrassment.

Riley and Burt exchanged a look.

“Well, you were with him for two years, son,” Burt said slowly, “and you’ve been gone all summer.”

“Did he kiss you back?” Riley asked, brows raised.

A flushed Kurt peeked through his fingers and nodded.

Riley shrugged. “So what’s the problem? You obviously both wanted to kiss. You did and now it’s over. Are you getting back together with him?”

“He didn’t ask me.”

“And that’s not what _I_ asked,” Riley said. “Do you want him back?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt said softly. “I really don’t.”

“And that’s okay. You don’t have to make a decision today. It doesn’t have to be anything more than a kiss unless you allow it to be.”

Kurt frowned and slowly nodded. “That makes sense.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised!”

“Yet whenever you say something intelligent, I always am!” Kurt cheerfully replied.

“Give it up, Riley,” Burt snickered. “You haven’t won this game since he learned to talk.”

Riley pouted at both of them.

Kurt offered a triumphant grin.

“How was everything at the shop, buddy?” Burt asked his youngest.

Kurt finished chewing his salad and nodded. “It was fine. Nothing major, mostly oil changes and tire rotations. Next week will be much busier. I did the paperwork, submitted the payroll, and made the deposit."

Burt gave him a soft smile. “You’re a godsend, kid. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for everything you do.”

Kurt flushed. “I’m always happy to help.”

“Well, thanks again. So … tell us more about this Hudson character.”

Riley rubbed his hands together and cackled like a cartoon villain.

Kurt stabbed two cherry tomatoes and pretended they were his brother and father’s heads. “You both suffer a lack of decorum and civility. I find myself unwilling to extend even a modicum of same.”

He turned and gave his father a loving smile. “When’s the last time you went on a date, Father Knows Best? And Riley, I sincerely hope you have plans to date someone other than your hand relatively soon. Pink was just singing a song, not offering a lifestyle manual.”

Burt gaped as the toppings began slipping off his pizza.

Riley sighed. “We will never win, will we?”

Kurt sadly shook his head. “I don’t believe in giving false hope to the less fortunate. I would offer you condolences, but I also don’t believe in false modesty.”

* * *

 

Kurt was lying in his bed, hands folded on his chest and staring at the ceiling. He was ignoring Artie’s calls, instead considering his brother’s earlier question.

Did he want Artie back?

He had no issue with Artie being bisexual, if that was truly the case, but he remembered with vivid clarity the carefully-rehearsed speech Artie had delivered to him those months ago, an event which Kurt had termed the Big Dump. It had been marred by both of their sobbing.

Reading between the lines in hindsight, Kurt thought the real issue was that Artie wanted to date other people. If that were the case, should he actually be angry? They were so young when they had gotten together and somehow managed to last two years. All things considered, that was a pretty good run for a middle-school romance.

Neither of them had been under the illusion they were forever, that they’d marry and go off to college and then get jobs and have children. Kurt couldn’t even posit his future in that kind of detail. He had goals he wanted to accomplish and could imagine those with little trouble, but when he thought about his future partner, the man’s face was still blank.

And that was the point, he supposed. The face wasn’t Artie’s.

Perhaps it was better they had parted while they still loved each other, with the possibility they could remain good friends. He hoped that was the case; he couldn’t picture his life without Artie in it in some capacity. They had been friends long before they became boyfriends.

He really didn’t want to dwell on this. The bottom line was that he and Artie were no longer together. Artie had done the right thing, and had ultimately done him a favor, by coming to him and telling him directly, rather than cheating. Not that he could imagine Artie ever doing such a thing, but he knew other people did.

Kurt quashed those thoughts prickling just at his consciousness, the ones that insisted Artie was already interested in someone, perhaps someone he had met last year. That was the problem with being in different schools: all of the common day-to-day activities they had once shared had disappeared. They had different friends, different classes and activities.

They were different people now.

Perhaps some relationships just simply ran their course.

He nodded to himself and turned on his side, glancing down at his phone and noting Artie hadn’t left a message. Apparently he didn’t want to discuss it any more than Kurt himself did.

He sighed and told himself to walk away and remember the good things. Artie would always be his first love and theirs had been a happy relationship. He didn’t want the memories poisoned by half-baked theories his insecurities insisted were responsible.

He forced himself to put it out of his mind.

Dance class had been fun. Riley had driven him and even stayed for the whole session. He then had taken him, Mike, and Brittany out for smoothies. Of course, Riley had been obnoxious by immediately taking the seat next to Brittany, forcing Kurt to sit next to Mike. It was all fine, of course, but Kurt resented Riley’s puerile interference, no matter how well-intentioned.

Of course Mike was gorgeous, Kurt had always known that, but he also didn’t want to risk their friendship over something that might not work out, especially after everything that had happened with Artie. Falling in love with another best friend didn’t sound particularly intelligent. He was in a new school with hundreds of new boys.

Not that he even wanted to date right now, because he really didn’t.

Which was why he didn’t understand why he couldn’t stop thinking about Finn Hudson.

Or that stupidly hot boy with the mohawk. And the arms. The arms were very impressive.

No one had ever made him feel as that boy had, like a piece of meat. He was a little distressed by how much he enjoyed it, of the powerful feeling it had given him.

He and Artie hadn’t ever gone past second base, and while they had both been very satisfied with what they had, Artie had never made him feel like _that_ , like an object of raw sexual desire.

Kurt shivered. This was dangerous thinking. He certainly thought about sex with ever increasing frequency, but knew he wasn’t yet ready for it. He didn’t like stereotyping people, but he sincerely doubted the mohawk was a virgin. Rather, the mohawk had probably taken the virginities of more people than he could remember.

And that shouldn’t have been as hot as he found it.

Kurt rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. “I _hate_ hormones.”

* * *

Kurt woke up at five the next morning to do his barre work and stretching exercises. He was naturally flexible, but neither Mike nor Brittany had to put in as much effort as he did. Every day he felt like his muscles were getting tighter and tighter. Mike explained that probably meant a growth spurt was coming on, and Kurt fervently hoped he was right. He was tired of being the shortest boy in class.

After an hour, he then performed thirty minutes of cardio to get his heart rate up. Artie had always thought he was nuts because of it, but Kurt really felt it was a good habit. He had more energy that was sustained throughout the day, which meant he didn’t have to rely on caffeine like most of his peers.

A quick, lukewarm exfoliating shower was then in order. He topped it off with obsessive moisturizing and his facial skin care routine, which included copious sunscreen. His mother had always told him that skin was a gift; it you took care of it, it would take care of you. It made sense, considering skin was the body’s largest organ. He drank more than a gallon of water a day to stay properly hydrated, which also staved off junk food cravings.

And he had seen the complexions of some of his fellow students. He definitely wanted to avoid going down that road if at all possible.

Okay, so he was vain. Everyone had their quirks.

He knew he should be proud of his skin and he was. It was even, luminous, and silky soft, but he couldn’t help but sometimes wish for Riley’s complexion. Riley could work in the yard for one afternoon and then waltz back into the house looking as though the sun had fallen from the sky and made love to him. It was so unfair!

Their mom had called them _Soleil_ and _Lune_ , her sun and moon, the lights surrounding her with constant beauty and warmth.

He fought back the tears. He supposed it would never stop hurting. Maybe it wasn’t meant to.

He headed toward his closet and debated what to wear. McKinley didn’t have a dress code and Kurt himself did not subscribe to the teenage male penchant of looking like you slept in your clothes and then rolled out of bed.

He tilted his head and the magic began.

Colors began coordinating. Patterns danced before his eyes and waited for his acceptance or dismissal. Accessories sang and demanded to adorn him.

It felt like a solid color day. School had started after Labor Day, which regrettably meant white pants and shoes were out. Despite what the squalling masses insisted, _real_ fashion still had rules, and he was determined to obey them. He firmly agreed with Serial Mom on that score.

He decided on a slim-fit lavender short-sleeved Oxford, a pair of supple midnight-blue True Religion denims, and black-on-black saddle shoes. This year’s coveted body part was the clavicle and he thought his were particularly attractive, so he forewent the bowtie and instead left the first two buttons unbuttoned.

A little cleavage never hurt anybody, and since he was _finally_ showing some pectoral development, why not feature it?

He did his final twirl before his three panel mirror and deemed himself fabulous.

Wait. Something was missing. But what?

Accessory!

It would have to match his belt and shoes. He strode toward his vanity and surveyed his collection, eyes lighting when they fell on a black leather cuff Riley had picked up for him last year at the Renaissance Fair. It was gently distressed and engraved with gorgeous Celtic knot-work. Perfect!

A black leather Kenneth Cole messenger bag was added and he was ready to go.

Kurt hopped up the stairs, cheerfully greeted his still blurry family, got off a few brilliantly sarcastic remarks at their expense, snatched an apple from the bowl, and was off.

Dancing toward the door, he stopped when Riley called out after him.

“Do you want a ride, bae?”

Kurt paused. A ride would be nice, especially if it was going to be as hot today as it was yesterday. He didn’t want to arrive at school stinking like a _boy_.

“Please, and thank you, Jay-Z!”

He snickered when he heard Riley whisper to Dad that he’d stop for Starbucks on the way back. They had made great strides with expanding their anemic culinary talents, but neither one could make a pot of coffee worth a damn.

* * *

He and Riley sang along to top-forty on the way.

Kurt was justifiably proud of his voice, but that bothersome sibling rivalry often reared his head whenever Riley opened his mouth. His speaking voice was deep and smooth, but his singing voice was just dead sexy, a rich baritone which Kurt lamented would never be his.

Riley hadn’t done much with his voice, which Kurt thought was a shame. Some training would have made Riley the kind of crooner at whom girls threw their panties.

As Riley pulled into the lot, he noticed dozens of kids gathered in a semicircle off to the side of the entrance.

“What’s going on?” he wondered.

Kurt shrugged. “Probably some pathetic protest or unsanitary bake sale.”

His brother snorted, quirking a smile when Kurt discreetly craned his neck to try and determine what was going on.

“It’s Mike and Brittany!” He frowned. “Do you hear music?”

“They’re both in that glee club, right?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Please tell me they aren’t performing. This isn’t the subway.”

Riley snickered and double parked, turning off the engine.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I want to see. They’re awesome dancers.”

Kurt smiled and exited the car, closing the door behind him. Once he stepped outside, he realized the entire club was performing _Uptown Funk_ , with Artie singing lead. He sounded amazing. Mike and Brittany were dancing out front of the group on what passed for the school’s quad.

He noted two others with them and, from what Mike and Brittany had described, they must have been Matt and Santana. They were both very good with natural ability and would have been tremendous with some training. He recognized the choreography from their hip-hop class. Obviously Mike and Brittany had instructed their friends and had done an excellent job.

His muscle memory ensured he was soon bopping in time with the others.

“Get up there,” Riley whispered, nudging his shoulder.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“You kick ass, Mischa. Show them what you can do.” He smirked. “To piss off that girl who gave you shit yesterday, if nothing else. She’s there, right?”

“She’s the one who looks like Helen Keller dressed her.”

Riley winced, having no difficulty picking her out. She was singing backup and looked absolutely miserable. “Okay, I don’t know crap about fashion, but that outfit offends even me.”

“You shouldn’t encourage me to be petty.”

“I’m encouraging you to be even more awesome, which I’m not sure is possible.”

Kurt bit his lip and smiled. “It _would_ look better with five.”

Riley held out his hand. “Give me your bag.”

“What if I mess up?” Kurt whispered.

“Right, because the last time that happened was when?”

A small determined grin appeared on Kurt’s face and when Brittany signaled him to join in, he took it as a sign. He passed his bag to his brother and strode forward. Mike and Brittany beamed and created a space between them, into which Kurt seamlessly stepped.

As his brother proceeded to show everyone why his name would one day be up in lights, Riley focused on the group behind Kurt. He spotted Artie immediately and repressed a scowl. Whatever he felt about the boy right then, he was impressed with Artie’s vocals. The kid did have a great voice.

His eyes then fell on a boy so tall he could only be Finn Hudson. He was very handsome, his features almost pretty, and Riley couldn’t help but melt a little as he watched the boy’s eyes soften when Kurt appeared, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He suddenly seemed to come alive and began pouring more effort into his backup vocals.

Riley also noticed some punk with a cheesy mohawk and a muscle shirt staring at Kurt like lunch had been served. The little shit couldn’t have been more blatant. Riley made a mental note to find out more about him. Someone that good-looking and aware of it had been around the block, and he wouldn’t allow his little brother to be the next stop on this deviant’s paper route.

The punk then caught his eye and Riley snarled, almost barking like a dog, and the boy quickly looked away. Good. Mohawk would be made to understand that Big Brother was on duty and always would be.

The dancers then formed a single file line, with Mike in the lead. Mike then stepped to the side with some wicked pop-and-lock moves that looked straight out of a Michael Jackson video before dancing off toward the back. A black boy was next, turning to the side, performing a front flip and then breakdancing his way backwards.

A fiery Latina then moved up a spot before shooting off into a series of perfect cartwheels, landing equidistant to Mike on her other side. The outfit suggested she was a cheerleader, and those moves indicated she was a damn good one. Brittany followed, stepping out of the line into a double handspring into an aerial.

Riley couldn’t help but burst into applause as she ran toward the back. All of the kids now stood in front of Kurt.

Just then, a giraffe in a tracksuit appeared with a megaphone in hand and murder on her mind. Riley recognized her immediately. Everyone knew Sue Sylvester. She raised the megaphone to her mouth just as the bridge of the song approached.

Riley would deck her if she messed with Kurt’s spotlight, but then his brother was running around the makeshift stage and off to the side. What?

The strings, percussion, and brass were reaching their crescendo when Kurt threw his hands into the air as he picked up speed. The other kids formed a line across the stage, with Mike at one end and Brittany at the other.

“ _Don’t believe me? Just watch!_ ” Artie sang.

Kurt then fell into a twist which segued to four back handsprings, another twist, and a fifth handspring, which he used to vault himself into a full layout.

“What!” Riley screamed, as Rachel stopped singing to stare. An older man with ridiculous hair did the same.

Kurt stuck the landing perfectly as the makeshift crowd screamed accolades. Sylvester’s eyes widened to the size of planets as she slowly lowered the megaphone.

Riley did _not_ like the way she was looking at his brother.

The kids turned, bookended by Mike and Kurt, then launched themselves into the air in unison. Mike and Kurt executed Russian splits, the girls threw their legs out in front of them and grabbed their toes, and the black boy did another forward flip.

They landed, again in unison, on the last note of the song. Enthusiastic cheering commenced. The kids took their bows as the bell rang, and the crowd began to disperse, most of them rather regretfully.

Riley had never seen anything like this in his life and was so damned proud of his brother he could have rocketed himself into space. He also didn’t like how everyone was now swarming Kurt. He raced forward and swept his brother into his arms.

“That was incredible! You’re amazing!”

Kurt’s laughter was wild and free as he threw his arms around Riley’s neck and clung tightly as his brother spun them in circles, his friends jumping all around them.

“Kurty, you did the layout!” Brittany screeched. “You never told me you finally got it!”

Riley put Kurt back on the ground and rubbed circles on his back.

Kurt blushed and ducked his head. “That was actually the first time I managed to stick the landing.”

Brittany stared at him. “Holy shit.”

“Words out of my mouth, babe,” Santana guffawed. She turned to Kurt. “You kicked ass.”

Kurt bit his lip. “I kind of did, didn’t I?” He blinked and his eyes lighted. “You’re Santana! I’m so happy to finally meet you!” He paused and considered her. “Brittany in no way exaggerated. You are stunning.”

Puck tripped over his own feet when Santana blushed.

She pressed her chest against Kurt. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in an opposite-sex life partner,” she purred. “I foresee many meetings in which we tell each other how great we are.”

“I like meetings with clearly-defined goals,” Kurt laughed. “And you must be Matt!”

Matt beamed and nodded, but didn’t say anything. He did heartily shake hands with Kurt, however. Riley dimly recalled Kurt telling him Mike’s other best friend didn’t often speak.

Mike forced his way in between Kurt and Riley, throwing his arms around his friend.

“Holy crap, Kurt! You totally _nailed_ that! I’m so proud of you!”

He then proceeded to dance them around the courtyard.

Riley still thought Mike was not only a viable option for future brother-in-law, but the most preferable. He blinked and shook his head when his brother became endangered of being stampeded. He smoothly stepped forward and intercepted the brunette missile heading Kurt’s way.

“Kurt! Kurt!” Rachel howled, desperately trying to push past Riley and glaring when she proved ineffectual. “Kurt, you have to reconsider! We need you! Think of the music, Kurt! We have to save the music!”

Riley stared down at her. “Leave. _Now_.”

She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “And just who are you?”

“Kurt’s bodyguard. All _true_ celebrities have them.”

Rachel turned red and opened her mouth.

“Riley, stop,” Kurt admonished, stepping forward and grabbing his brother’s arm while keeping as clear from Rachel as possible. He turned back to his friends. “This is my brother, Riley,” he said proudly to Matt and Santana.

Santana eyed Riley up and down. “The word _stud_ was made to define you.”

Riley’s eyes widened.

“Riley also does really awesome French braids,” Brittany helpfully told everyone. “Even better than Kurt!”

He laughed. “Anything for you, Britt. You know that.”

“Can you make Kurt like girls just a little bit so I can marry him and have really, really attractive children?”

Riley scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, honey, but Kurt only likes boys.”

“Oh,” she said sadly. She then looked at him with enormous doe eyes. “Then could you drive Kurty to my party tonight?”

“I can do that.”

“Yay!”

“You’re having a party, Sweetness?”

Brittany nodded. “ _Please_ , Kurty? It’s a Friday night and everything! And I’m sure you’ve already done your homework for, like, the next month. It just going to be us,” she said, gesturing to the rest of the glee club.

Kurt turned uneasy. “I don’t know …”

“Are your parents going to be home, Brittany?” Riley interjected.

She nodded. “Well, my dad will be. And Lord Tubbington is chaperoning.”

“You should go,” Riley said to Kurt, nudging him. “Ignore the rest and count on Brittany, Mike, Matt, and Santana to look out for you.”

Santana gave him a stoic nod. “My word.”

He considered her. “Coming from you, I think that means something. Go, Kurt. Have some fun. You’ve earned it.”

Kurt bit his lip but at last nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly, a small smile on his face.

Brittany whooped with delight and proceeded to kiss Kurt on the lips. They then both burst into laughter.

“You really are the best boy kisser ever, Kurty,” she loudly whispered.

Riley took note of who looked a little too interested in her assessment.

“The second bell’s about to ring,” Matt said.

He and Mike immediately stood behind Kurt as Brittany and Santana stood at his sides. They marched off toward the door.

“Bye, Riley! I’ll see you at home later!”

Riley waved. “Love you!”

“Love you, too!”

Riley then looked around, watching as the other kids scrambled to get inside. He gave pointed looks at the two teachers who met his eyes. The man blushed and quickly hurried inside, but Sylvester simply stared back. Finally, she offered a respectful nod and walked away.

He was more thankful than ever he had gone to Carmel.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapters are named after Madonna songs. #PowerOfMadonna
> 
> Yep, Kurt has a brother, Riley. For those of you who have read some of my crossovers, yes, Kurt's brother is Riley Finn of _Buffy_ fame. That doesn't mean there will be any Buffyverse in this story. I just wanted Kurt to have a big brother, because he really needs one. Finn tried, but he needed Kurt far more than Kurt did him. Thanks for reading!


	4. Beautiful Stranger

Kurt was thankful not to have any rehearsals after classes, anxious to spend as much time with Riley before his brother left for school on Sunday. Most of his homework was completed other than some assigned reading, so he was looking forward to almost forty-eight hours of basking in fraternal affection.

Not that he was feeling too charitable toward Riley at the moment. He had reconsidered going to Brittany’s party several times throughout the day and, each time he did, he inevitably received a text from his brother insisting that Kurt was not only going to attend, but enjoy himself.

He really didn’t like parties. They were always somewhat awkward, especially if more than one clique was present. The food sucked. Someone was always trying to sneak liquor into red cups. Couples would break up and then make up in the span of an hour. There was just so much drama involved and Kurt wanted no part of it.

He freely admitted to being dramatic, but he really didn’t have too much drama of his own, excepting his situation with Artie. He wanted to keep it that way. He highly suspected Brittany’s party would involve _drama_ , especially considering the only guests would be the glee club.

And him. Hm.

He wondered if Brittany had invited him in a bid of encouragement to join. He knew that, despite how she presented herself, the girl was diabolical. She always wanted to spend more time with him and Mike, as they often didn’t get the chance to get together outside of dance classes. But now, Kurt was at the same school. Of course, not too much had changed. He was in a different grade and didn’t share classes with them, but he was physically present.

There were advantages and drawbacks to attending. The major advantage was extra Mikurtanny time, the ridiculous portmanteau Brittany had created to describe their little trio. And, okay, yes, he thought it was adorable. There was little Brittany did or said that he did not find adorable.

It would also give him a chance to become better acquainted with Matt and Santana, whom he had been hearing about for years. He wanted to know the people who were so important to his best friends. Plans had often been attempted before, but it usually never worked out because of their very different schedules.

After meeting them today, he liked them. Matt appeared to be a really sweet guy who just had some selective mutism going on. Not being terribly outgoing himself, Kurt could relate. He knew Mike very well, and for him to be as close to someone as he was to Matt meant the other boy was worth knowing.

He was especially intrigued by Santana, though he didn’t quite understand why. If he was anything other than absolutely thoroughly gay, he supposed he would have likened to it attraction. She was certainly a gorgeous girl, but he didn’t want to be intimate with her. So what was it?

Perhaps it simply came down to kindred spirits, some kind of emotional or personality attraction. That was a little exciting. He knew lots of people – from school, his extracurricular activities, the shop, his dad’s campaign – but he didn’t have very many friends. He was mostly fine with that. He dearly loved the ones he had and wanted to keep his circle small, but thought he’d rather like adding Santana and Matt to it.

Still, he had a sense he would be little more than a fifth wheel in this particular setting. He didn’t want them to feel obligated to spend time with him.

The disadvantages were multiple. It would be the first real _meaningful_ interaction he’d have with Artie since the breakup. They had rarely argued, but when they had, it was anything but quiet. When fights occurred, they were usually instigated by Artie and Kurt, ruefully, had difficulty walking away, always trying to get in the last word.

If the worst happened tonight, Kurt told himself he _would_ walk away. He would not disrespect Brittany, Uncle Patrick and Aunt Ashley, or their home.

The second disadvantage would be the Mohawk.

He couldn’t admit it aloud, but there was a part of Kurt which desperately wanted a proper meeting; a name to go with the face. His attraction to Mohawk was very different from his to Santana. It was almost certainly sexual and _only_ sexual.

Mohawk was very nicely put together. Kurt knew he was both curious and had a very real weakness for beauty. This was a cause for concern. If Mohawk managed to get him alone, and he rather thought there would be some attempt, he worried he might not be able to put a stop to something at the appropriate time.

He might have thought about once or seventeen times throughout the day what it would feel like for Mohawk to trap him between those massive arms and sneak a kiss, to feel that body pressed against his, to have those greedy eyes stare into his own.

He shuddered, trying to convince himself it was revulsion he felt and not desire.

The third disadvantage was Finn Hudson.

He wanted to see Finn again, to hold an actual conversation with him and find out if there might possibly be something more between them other than hesitant undeclared interest. Finn seemed sweet, much along the lines of Mike, but he was also safer because they weren’t friends. The lines were less muddled.

But he wasn’t ready for another relationship, right? Right.

Not that there would necessarily be a relationship, but he believed more chance would exist for one with Finn than with Mohawk.

Finally, there was Rachel Berry.

She was the real problem.

She would try to talk to him. She would whine. She would harass. She might even cry.

Worse, she might try to become his friend. He hated simpering.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out.

* * *

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Riley groaned.

Kurt turned around and glared. “First? Knock. Second, there is nothing wrong with my ensemble.”

“It’s so _boring_ , Mischa!”

“It’s Gucci!”

Riley sighed. “Why do you have to wear so many layers, Kurt? It’s still summer and there will be a lot of people in an enclosed space. I know you Safeguard the ones you love, and I thank you for it, but do you really want to risk it?”

“Appealing to my vanity will not work.”

Riley turned thoughtful. “Perhaps I’m going about it the wrong way.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What do you mean?”

Riley began walking around the bedroom, examining Kurt’s book and music collection. “Well, I suppose I could say that this _is_ your first high school party and you want to make a good impression.”

Kurt let that pass without comment.

“Then I could add that everyone else will be a year older and probably showing a little more skin. Not that you’re cheap, but you _are_ fucking gorgeous and should flaunt it once in a while.”

Kurt blushed and quickly looked down, but remained silent.

“I might then point out that there will be two guys there who have, in one way or another, made their interest known. You might want to think about showing them that they should step up their game while giving them a reason why they should count themselves lucky you might deign to consider them.”

“ _Riley_ ,” he hissed, nervously picking at his cuff.

“And, finally, Artie will be there. He should be made to suffer for letting my perfect, gorgeous little brother slip through his stupid, clumsy fingers.”

“It’s not like that,” Kurt insisted.

Riley raised a brow. “Oh? Not even a little?”

Kurt bit his lip.

Riley smirked.

“Smugness does not become you."

“Not as well as it does you, but that’s true of everything.”

“I don’t like being manipulated. I _really_ don’t like be manipulated by my brother.”

Riley laughed. “Nice try, but I’m a psychology major for a reason, Mischa. I might never be able to match your repartee or rhetoric skills, but don’t think for a moment I can’t match you scheme for scheme. Your admonishment was nothing but a manipulation itself, and I would no more manipulate you than you would Brittany.”

Kurt sighed. “Then what is this really about?”

Riley was silent for a moment and then sat down on Kurt’s bed. “You weren’t wrong, you know, when you said I have no love life. I don’t really have much of a life at all, outside of school and the ROTC. It’s not that I _don’t_ want one; I just never really learned how to get one.

“I spent most of high school with my nose in a book or on the football field. I graduated this summer, Kurt, and do you know how many people I’ve stayed in touch with? Zero. Because I never touched them in any meaningful way. They probably forgot my name right after they were handed their diplomas. I don’t want that for you.”

“Riley,” he whispered, “that’s just not true. You were one of the most popular boys at Carmel.”

“Yeah, because I made honor roll and kicked ass on the field, but I never had a Brittany or Mike, honey. I never had an Artie. You’re so concerned for your future, Kurt, and that’s a good thing, but don’t focus so much on it that you let everything else leave you behind. Four years pass much more quickly than you know.

“I want you to meet new people, Mischa. I want you to try new things. Don’t be so afraid all the time. I mean it when I say you are probably the most awesome and interesting person I know. You need to share it with others and stop living so much …” he tapped Kurt’s temple “… in here.”

Kurt’s eyes filled. “Are you really so unhappy?”

Riley sighed again and drew Kurt into a hug, kissing the top of his head. “Oh, Mischa, I’m not _unhappy_ , but neither can I say that I’m all that happy. I get it, bud, I do. I feel the pressure to live up to Mom’s legacy. I feel the pressure to be Dad’s perfect son. _They_ never put that pressure on me, I did that to myself, but I want better for you.”

Kurt hung his head. “Please tell me you didn’t go to OSU to be close by for me.”

“No. I went to OSU because I want to be close _to_ you. You and Dad are all I have, Mischa, and I don’t want to miss a thing. I know Dad and I can be overbearing and overprotective, but you’re our world, Kurt. You’re our _light_. I want you to grab life by the throat and throttle it into submission, because I know you can. And it starts now.”

“Are you living your life for me, Riley?” Kurt whispered. “Because I don’t want that.”

Riley laughed and cuddled him. “I’m not living my life for you, Kurt. I want to watch you live yours, just for a little while longer.” His breath caught. “You’re growing up so fast, kiddo, and you’re not going to need me much longer.”

“I will _always_ need you. Also, we’re a little too codependent.”

“That’s okay for now. It will change soon enough. Find out who you are, and do it on purpose.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Did you really just quote Dolly?”

“I know your weaknesses.”

Kurt sighed. “If … if I try, that means you have to try, too. It means you have to leave your dorm room and meet people. It means you have to put yourself out there and play the field, and I don’t mean football. If I can’t always be Dad’s little prince, that means you don’t have to be his perfect soldier.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He pushed Riley up and toward the door. “I’ll change.”

“We leave in fifteen, so hurry up.”

“Perfection cannot be rushed.”

Riley looked over his shoulder and smiled. “That’s the thing, Mischa. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

* * *

 

“Holy shit!”

“Don’t start, Riley,” Kurt warned. “I did what you wanted.”

Burt, too busy staring at the laptop before him, missed the opening salvo. Riley had pulled up a blog from some geek at McKinley who had posted video of a performance from this morning. All Burt could do was rewind over and over again the part that featured Kurt.

He had no idea his son could do that. He didn’t remember Kurt ever taking gymnastics, so what the hell? Was his boy just a natural? He had always felt a little disappointed that Kurt had never been as interested in athletics as him and Riley, but obviously that wasn’t true. Maybe Kurt just didn’t like the same kind of sports.

Truth was, Kurt had always shied away from teams and group activities. Burt had believed Kurt just didn’t enjoy competition, but maybe the only person against whom Kurt wished to compete was himself. Singing, dancing, martial arts; they were all individual activities. It had been the same with tennis, skating, and fencing. Even his work at the shop was mostly solo.

Why the fuck was he only figuring this out now? What else didn’t he know?

He felt like he had failed some important test. All the years he had spent trying to coerce Kurt into watching games and NASCAR when he knew the boy hated it, just so they might bond over something simple. And that just made him feel worse, because he hadn’t tried to bond with Kurt over the things that actually mattered to his son.

Not that he wasn’t proud as hell of his boy. He’d heard Kurt sing and, in his opinion, there was no better. He’d been to every recital and was amazed by Kurt’s elegance and artistry. His kid was so damn smart that it made Burt feel like he had helped bring a true force of good into this world.

But Kurt had always held back a part of himself. He had always been shy, but he had become painfully so after Suzanne died. He had regimented his life into neatly segmented divisions which he didn’t allow to overlap.

Sometimes that made Burt worry, but maybe it was just how Kurt coped.

The question, of course, was which Kurt? Kurt the singer? Kurt the dancer? Kurt the genius?

That was no way to live a life. There needed to be a happy medium.

“Dad, I’ll be back in half an hour. I’ve already ordered the pizza, so I’ll pick it up on my way home.”

“Sounds good, son.”

“Order Kurt to have fun.”

Burt blinked and looked up. “You can’t _order_ fun, Riley. It either happens or it doesn’t.”

“Fine. Then tell Kurt he has to attempt to have fun, rather than sitting in a corner and watching everyone else have it.”

Burt frowned. “Your brother’s right, Kurt. You work too damn hard, kid. You need to relax and have some downtime. You’re only fourteen, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’m fifteen, Daddy.”

Burt began turning around. “Well, now, that can’t be … right?” His eyes bulged. “Kurt?”

“Hi.”

“W-What are you wearing?”

“Clothes, Dad.”

“According to who?”

“Whom.”

Burt shook his head. “No word games, son. What … when did you get those?”

“I bought the pants a while ago. I just made the shirt.”

He looked up at his eldest. “I will pay you to go to this party and keep an eye on him.”

Kurt just sighed.

“Dad, stop it,” Riley snapped. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with what he’s wearing. For god’s sake, he’s fifteen years old. He’s not a child, so stop treating him like one. You’re acting like you just saw your daughter in a miniskirt for the first time. Knock it off.”

Burt’s eyes blazed with anger and then confusion when Riley didn’t capitulate. It was rare they argued, but when Riley got a bee in his bonnet, he didn’t let go of it easily. He also knew he was being overly sensitive. He had a tendency to feminize Kurt, which he knew was just wrong and completely unfair. It was just that Kurt was his baby, the last piece of Suzanne that lived on other than in their memories.

Truthfully, no, there was nothing wrong with what Kurt was wearing. His son usually wore his clothes tight, but they weren’t immodest, and the only skin he was showing were his arms.

He just didn’t understand how he had missed all this.

Kurt had muscles. Slight muscles, to be sure, but definite muscles. His biceps were taut and toned, probably from dancing and his work in the shop. The hard planes of an actual developing chest were showing. His stomach was as flat as a board. And … he quickly looked away, but not before he realized Kurt was, well, blessed. The pants made that clear enough.

What the hell kind of impulse buy were those pants, anyway? He had never seen Kurt wear anything like that before. The kid had somehow managed to pour himself into a snug pair of bright cobalt leather pants that fit like a second skin and looked as supple as butter.

He wasn’t surprised by Kurt’s legs. As much time and effort as he put into dancing, of course he would have definite results. The boy’s legs were longer than he had imagined, but that was probably because Kurt tended to wear so many layers that his body was usually swimming in material. It often made him look simultaneously thinner and bigger than he really was. His thighs looked like he could choke a bear with them.

The shirt was blood red and something he used to wear around the shop when he was younger. That probably explained why it was so damn tight and the sliver of pale abdomen. Kurt had cut off the sleeves, because of course they wouldn’t have fit over these new arms of his. He was wearing an old pair of Riley’s combat boots.

How could they fit? Riley wore a fourteen.

Wait. How could Kurt be fifteen? What year was it?

“What’s going on with your hair?”

Kurt brought nervous fingers to it. “Does it look bad?”

“No,” Burt said. “It looks like _your_ hair. You didn’t straighten it.”

It was still parted on the side, but rather being shellacked, it was free in loose waves. Kurt always kept the sides and back short because he hated the waves. He only wore bangs because he had a nervous tic and was always shoving them over his ear. The action soothed him when he was anxious.

He frowned. “You wearing that, what do they call it? Guyliner?”

“Too much?”

“Got your mom’s eyes,” Burt said quietly. “Look, what I’m about to say, I’m not saying it to be mean, okay? It just needs to be said.”

Kurt steeled himself, set his mouth into a grim line, and nodded.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Kurt. Do you know that?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean like a girl. You’re not a girl, you don’t look a girl, and I know that. But you’re beautiful. You’re like every guy I ever hated in school.”

Kurt blushed, and damn if that didn’t make him look even better!

“I’ve seen your pictures, Dad. You were very handsome. You still are.”

Burt shrugged. “I was okay. I looked good and I knew it, but you’re in a whole other league, kiddo. I guess all those creeps who wanted you to model when you were a kid saw what I didn’t. They saw the man you’d become and I only saw my baby.”

He sighed. “But you’re not a baby anymore.”

Kurt toed the ground. “I’m your baby.”

Burt slowly shook his head. “No, you’re not, and that’s a good thing. It’s something I clearly needed to realize. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to keep you a kid forever, but you’re becoming a man, and I am so damn proud of you.”

Aw, shit. He’d made his boy cry.

“Now, look, son, there are going to be older boys at this party ...”

“Dad!”

“Listen! This is important. I know you’re not a baby and you’re not a girl. I know you can take care of yourself. Still, there are creepers out there and you can’t always tell from looking at them. So I want you to promise me you will get your drinks yourself and won’t leave them unguarded.”

Kurt nodded. That was reasonable.

“If you decide you want to hook up with a guy …”

“ _No_ , Dad.”

“… then you need to protect yourself. Do you have condoms?”

Kurt dropped his head and groaned. “This is not happening.” He clicked his heels three times. “Oh, right. I _am_ home. I need a new plan.”

Burt snickered, but quickly sobered. “I’m serious, son. You can’t rely on someone else. You need to be responsible.”

“I’ll give him some,” Riley said.

“And why do you have condoms, Riley?” Kurt asked.

Burt looked at his eldest and raised a brow.

“I’m not actively dating. I’m also not a monk.”

Kurt smirked.

Burt laughed. “Okay. Kurt, one more thing: don’t let anyone pressure you into something you don’t want. I can’t tell you how to live your life. You were with Artie for two years. I don’t know how far you went and I don’t want to know, but I also know it’s not reasonable for me to think you’re going to be celibate until marriage. You have to do what’s right for you and I know you’re smart enough to figure out what that is.

“So I’m going to tell you what your godmother told your mama right before our first date.”

Kurt sighed. “Really? You’re giving advice once dispensed by Olivia Pope?”

He raised a brow. “Know someone better?”

Kurt waited.

“Liv told your mom _if he wants you, he has to earn you_. Goes for boys, too, Kurt. Artie is a good kid, but he has some serious issues and didn’t always treat you the way you deserve. If you find someone, make sure he _does_ deserve you.”

Kurt nodded. “Okay, Dad.”

“Because if he doesn’t, I’ll shove my shotgun up his ass and pull the trigger. Have fun, son.”

Kurt groaned and stumbled out of the kitchen and into the front hall.

Riley gripped Burt’s shoulder. Burt sighed and patted his son’s hand.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry we’re running late. I expected Dad to say something, but not all that.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt said. “Fashionable entrances and all.”

Riley laughed. “He was right, though.”

“I know,” Kurt said quietly. “Riley, may I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“How did you know when it was the right time?”

Riley blew out a breath. “That’s not easy. It should be, and sometimes it feels like it is, but that’s more hormones than anything else. I’ve had my share of one night stands, Kurt, and I’m not ashamed of them. Sex is something of which you should never be ashamed. It’s a healthy and really, really fun part of life. That said, and I’m being totally serious here, it means so much more when there’s actual feeling behind it.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m missing something, some drive that everyone but me has. I know people who have already had sex, and of course it’s their decision, but I know I’m not ready for it. I’m only fifteen, Riley. I know the national average, but it just seems so young to me. Is that wrong? Is it stupid?”

“It’s not stupid to want it to mean something, Mischa. It _should_ mean something. And there’s nothing wrong with waiting. The only thing I _don’t_ want you to do is wait for some perfect guy to appear out of a fairytale to sweep you off his feet and take you back to his castle. That just doesn’t happen, Kurt, and you’ll be waiting for the rest of your life. Make sure it’s right and is something you want, but don’t be so afraid of sex that you let the fear rule you.”

Kurt stared out the side window. “I don’t think I’m afraid so much as I’m … wary.”

“You’re picky. You always have been. There’s nothing with being choosy about someone with whom you share your body.”

“Are you picky?”

“Usually,” Riley said, “but there have been a few times where I wasn’t. Like I said, I don’t regret those times, but neither do I look back on them with any great fondness.”

“I think I’m scared to be that close to someone,” Kurt whispered.

“Maybe because you’re anxious about sharing yourself so completely,” Riley gently suggested. “I know it’s always been difficult for you to let your guard down, Mischa, and, yeah, that can be scary. It’s scary to surrender yourself to someone else.

“And I don’t mean surrender as any kind of euphemism. I’m not talking about where dicks will go. I’m talking about being vulnerable and, regardless of the circumstances or your partner, sex makes you vulnerable. That’s why Dad said what he did. He knows you’re eventually going to have sex and he knows that only you will know when you’re ready, but when that time comes, it’s very important that you trust the other person.”

Kurt nodded.

“Or people, if that’s your thing.”

Kurt punched his brother’s shoulder. Hard.

 

* * *

 

Brittany had left Santana in charge of the karaoke machine because she didn’t like the way Rachel was looking it. It reminded her of how her grandfather used to look at an old ashtray or how a lot of her mom’s friends looked at Puck. It was kind of a like a really sad orgasm.

Mike and Matt were dancing with Mercedes and Tina, as Quinn stood guard over Finn and making deadly laser eyes at Rachel. Quinn would be a good Supergirl.

Brittany guessed that Rachel wasn’t too popular. She didn’t mind Rachel, but wished Rachel wasn’t so loud. Mercedes was also loud, but that was sometimes okay because she usually didn't whine. Rachel whined a lot and Brittany didn’t understand why. Rachel was pretty and smart and a really good singer, so why was so always so upset?

Artie and Puck sitting in a corner was weird. That they were talking to each other was weirder. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like it. She also thought Puck had given Artie something to drink, which was never a good idea.

“He’s asking Artie about Kurt.”

Brittany startled and turned around. “Why?”

“Because he wants in Kurt’s pants,” Mike growled.

Her eyes did that funny thing where they got smaller but she could still see just fine. “We have to protect him.”

He nodded.

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “We wouldn’t have to if you would just tell him you like him.”

He glared. “Are you the one who told my mom that Kurt broke up with Artie?"

“Sure.”

He facepalmed. “Brittany, _why?_ She was all over me about declaring my intentions and that interracial marriage was a beautiful thing and how she hoped our children would have Kurt's eyes!"

She stared. “I told her because you like him,” she said very slowly. “You always have. Your mom knows it. Your dad knows. _I_ know it and everyone at the studio knows it.”

He sighed. “Brittany, please don’t do this. You’re my best friend and I love you, but I’m seriously asking you not to do this.”

Her eyes filled. “I just want you to be happy, Mikey. Is that bad?”

“No,” he said quietly, “it’s not bad and I love you for it, but I really don’t think Kurt is ready for another relationship. He and Artie were together for two years, honey.”

She nodded. “That’s a long time.” She cocked her head. “But you’re also scared, and you shouldn’t be. Kurt would never hurt you.”

He looked down at the floor. “What if we tried and it didn’t work?”

“What if it did?”

“I could lose my best friend.”

“So watching him with Finn would be better?”

He toed the ground. “Finn’s a good guy.”

“Sometimes he is. Other times he’s not.”

“Kurt isn’t Quinn.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes I’m not. Maybe they’re secret twins. That would explain everything.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I really don’t think it would.”

“I guess. I suppose Kurt would know if he was Quinn’s twin. He knows everything else.”

He grinned.

“I won’t tell him you like him, Mikey, but I think you’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

She pecked his cheek and skipped off to get more chips.

“I know,” he murmured.

* * *

 

Brittany carefully measured out Lord Tubbington’s dinner. The cat doctor said Lord Tubbington was fat, so Brittany called nine-one-one to report him for bullying and inciting eating disorders, but the operator just kept asking her if she had hit her head. Then the new cat doctor said the same thing but said it was sad because it meant Lord Tubbington wouldn’t live as long. She had given Brittany a diet.

Seafood Medley didn’t taste very good, but if it would help her and Lord Tubbington live longer, healthier lives, then she would deal with it. Also, her hair looked a lot shinier!

As she watched with satisfaction as Lord Tubbington chowed down, she absently wondered why Mary Magdalene was popularly considered a prostitute when she wasn’t called such in the original Greek. Further, the Greek word from which _apostle_ was derived actually meant the first to witness and proclaim.

Since Mary Magdalene was the first to witness and announce the resurrection of Jesus, she should be considered the only true Apostle and thus the Church and power of the papacy should have been hers. Instead it was given to Peter, and thus began the long-engrained history of misogyny within the Church.

“Huh.”

Misogyny was just silly and gave her a sad. Of course women were superior. Women were the ones who continued the human race. They made up more than half the global population and workforce. Plus, they had boobs, and boobs were awesome!

Then, the doorbell rang.

“Who let the dogs out? Woof! Woof, woof, woof!”

She didn’t get it. Why didn’t her mom like the new doorbell Daddy had bought? He had said it was a gag gift, and then she had said it certainly made her gag, but all Brittany wondered was where her puppy was. But then Daddy had said there was no actual puppy, which Brittany suspected meant _he_ had let the dog out and was lying to cover it up.

It rang again and she danced around the kitchen.

“Woof! Woof, woof, woof!”

Santana peeked in and smiled. “Are you going to get the door, babe? It’s probably Kurt.”

Brittany applauded and began bouncing. “My dolphin!”

She skipped down the hall and threw open the door. “Kurty!”

She then gave a slow blink. “Kurty?” she whispered, tilting her head.

“Good evening, Sweetness. You look beautiful.”

She stared at him. His mouth was moving. Was he saying words? Kurt had a really, _really_ pretty mouth. She’d like to see it on her nipple or Santana’s lady garden. Wow, her nipples were hard. That was weird. It wasn’t cold outside. Her panties were wet. That was weirder.

“Can I lick you?” she asked.

Kurt blushed and looked away. “Maybe later, Brittany.”

“Oh, Kurty, you are so pretty. And hot. Really, really hot.”

His blush deepened. So cute!

“Um, may I come in, Sweetness?”

All Brittany heard was _come_. So she did.

* * *

Brittany stumbled into the room as though she were drunk. There were a few gentle giggles, but everyone soon enough returned to what they were doing. Santana, however, recognized the freshly fucked look and wanted to know who had put it on Brittany’s face. So she could kill them.

“Kurty’s here,” Brittany announced, voice high and thin.

“Awesome!” Mike cheered. “Kurt, get your tiny ass in here and get this party started!”

A round of applause broke out from Artie, Finn, Puck, and Rachel.

“Michael Chang,” a voice called out from the hall, “you and everyone else knows that my ass is perfect!”

Mike laughed. He stopped when Kurt walked into the room.

“Damn!” Mercedes shrieked.

Santana at once understood the glazed look on Brittany’s face because _goddamn!_

Puck released a throaty growl, abandoned Artie, and made a beeline toward Kurt, grunting like the Little Engine Who Could. At the last possible moment, Finn stuck his foot out and tripped him. Everyone stood silently and watched as Puck face-planted into the sofa.

“Does this mean my couch is kosher?” Brittany asked. “Why is Puck eating it?”

“Because sometimes Finn Hudson is awesome,” Santana, giving him a grudging look of respect.

He would have thanked her, but he was too busy staring. He actually felt the drool begin to pool in his mouth.

“You’re ogling him,” Quinn hissed under her breath. “Trust me, Finn, that is something no one likes. Believe me, I understand the reaction. If I thought for even a moment that boy had any kernel of heterosexuality, I’d mount him myself, but you’re coming off very _To Catch a Predator_ here.”

Finn swallowed and blinked rapidly. “What should I do?”

“ _Talk_ to him, just like you would anyone else. Try not to come on too strong or you’ll scare him away.”

“He’s really pretty, Quinn.

“Don’t tell him _that_ , either. Tell him he’s gorgeous or stunning or even hot, but no man, including a gay man, wants to be told they’re pretty by another man.”

Sweat broke out across his brow. “I’m totally going to fuck this up.”

“Probably, yes.” She sighed. “Finn, you’re a nice guy when you’re not throwing a tantrum and you can be very charming. Ask him about school. How does he like his classes? How is he adjusting as a freshman? Ask him about his friends. Offer to get him something to eat. And for goodness sake, _breathe_. You look like you’re going to tell him you want to have his baby.”

“It would be a beautiful baby, but I don’t want to have a butt baby. I read this really weird Harry Potter story one time …”

“Yes,” she quickly interrupted, “it would be a beautiful baby, but that’s not the point. The point is that Puck is starting to get up.”

Finn yelped, tried to get to his feet as quickly and as gracefully as possible, failed, and cracked his shin on the coffee table. He bit his lip and tasted blood as he tried to walk over to Kurt in the most gracious manner he could manage.

“Hey, Kurt!”

Kurt gave him this delicious little closed-lipped grin that Finn thought was both adorable and the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

“Hello, Finn Hudson,” Kurt said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Finn nodded with great enthusiasm. “It’s nice to see you too! I’m glad you came. Mike said you might not.”

Kurt laughed gently. “I actually tried to bail, but my brother insisted I come.” He looked down at his outfit. “He also said I had to dress for the occasion and not for a day funeral in New Orleans.”

“They have gumbo there. I like gumbo.” As soon as he said it, Finn wished to be struck by lightning.

But then Kurt’s smile grew and Finn’s heart began pounding. He made Kurt smile!

“I do, too,” Kurt said. “Perhaps one day I’ll make some for you.”

Finn stared. “You can cook?” he asked with great reverence.

Kurt’s nose scrunched up. “Yes, of course. I make most of the meals for my family. Do you like to cook?”

“Yeah, but my mom won’t let me. Something about insurance deductibles and gastritis.”

Kurt laughed.

Finn hadn’t known laughter could sound like music and decided perhaps this might be a good time to press his luck. “You’re gorgeous,” he said softly.

Kurt startled and looked up at him with the most amazing eyes Finn had ever seen. They were like kaleidoscopes or stained glass. He would be happy spending the rest of the night counting Kurt’s eyelashes, which were pretty amazing. Everything about him was amazing.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Not right now, thank you, but maybe something to eat?”

Finn nodded happily and placed his hand on Kurt’s elbow, guiding him toward the table.

How could skin be so soft when Kurt’s arms looked so strong?

He felt really bad that, as he was leading Kurt, he leaned back and googled his ass. Ogled. Something. It was the most perfect ass in the history of assdom. He felt the need to genuflect and sing a hymn.

He then noticed everyone was staring at Kurt.

He pulled Kurt just a little bit closer. Kurt blushed and looked up at him.

“You’re very tall."

Finn shrugged. “That just means I can see everything better, which is why I can say you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Kurt cocked his head. “Pretty smooth, Finn Hudson. Was that planned, or did you just come up with it now?”

“Well, I thought it the first moment I saw you, but I didn’t think to say it until just now. Is that okay?”

Kurt was quiet for a moment. “Yes," he said softly, "I think it is."


	5. Ray of Light

Kurt enjoyed spending time with Finn, but discovered quickly they didn’t have much in common. It was a little disappointing, but it was also nice to talk about things other than school or dance, which dominated his conversations with friends.

Finn really enjoyed talking about football, so much so that Kurt began to wonder if Finn liked the game as much as he proclaimed. His enthusiasm began to feel forced, but Kurt gamely kept up. He had no use for football, but his father loved it and he had gone to all of Riley’s games at Carmel so, though he was bored out of his mind, he was at least able to contribute.

Finn was actually aware of Riley’s high school football career and was something of a fan, which made Kurt a little giddy. He loved talking about his brother and why he was awesome and it was nice to discover that Riley’s talent was held in high esteem outside of Carmel.

To Finn’s credit, he sensed Kurt’s disinterest in the subject and tried to include other topics. Unfortunately, those conversations weren’t much more fruitful. Finn was an average student who viewed school as more of a chore than anything else, but the subjects he _did_ like, he tended to discuss passionately.

He didn’t like math, admitting he tended to copy Brittany’s answers during tests, even if they were inane. Kurt thought it was hysterical her answers to math problems were rainbows and bunny drawings, and believed she was doing it purposefully to mislead Finn. What was kind of cool was that Finn had cottoned on to it and was just as amused. Finn also didn’t like English and the only books he read were best-selling thrillers about espionage and conspiracies, the same fare his dad read.

Finn had read the Harry Potter series, however, and had strong opinions about the story and characters. He liked to defend his points of view, and Kurt found he agreed with many of them, particularly the idea that Snape wasn’t an antihero but a bully fixated on a dead woman who had never loved him. That was almost fifteen minutes of interesting discourse.

Finn also liked history, but didn’t care for the details. He much preferred looking at key events and relating them to current problems, which Kurt thought was an interesting tack. Really, who cared about the date a document was signed more than what the document _said_. Finn was particularly interested in military history because his father had been killed during the first Gulf War.

That discussion had segued into Kurt opening up about his mom and the pair lamented about the loss of a parent. Neither had ever had another person with whom they could talk about such issues and, though their experiences were different, it was something of a relief to discuss them with someone who understood.

They talked about music, which both adored, though they were fans of different genres. Finn loved classic rock and eighties pop because that’s what his mom had always played while he was growing up. Kurt held a certain fondness because his father’s tastes were similar, but he tended to favor current popular music, standards, and jazz. He loved musical theater because the songs told a story and, much to Finn’s surprise, he similarly enjoyed country music for the same reason.

Kurt felt slightly awkward because he had never talked about his love for country. Growing up in Ohio, it tended to be the standard fare and, previously, whenever he had shown an interest, he was ridiculed for it, as though he shouldn’t enjoy it because he was gay and thus disappointing the rainbow coalition.

They discovered both of them loved Dolly Parton and Shania Twain.

They did adore the same television shows. Finn liked things with a supernatural bent and, because of the recent trends in pop culture, he was really into _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all things Joss Whedon, as well as _Charmed_ and _Supernatural_. They bonded over their love of the Winchester brothers and Finn admitted he sometimes trolled the internet for Wincest stories.

“May I ask you a question?”

Finn grinned. “Sure, Kurt. You can ask me anything.”

“Are you gay?”

“No, I’m bisexual. Is … is that okay?”

Kurt nodded. “Of course! I was just curious. When did you first realize you also liked boys?”

“Well, I think I kind of knew a few years ago, but I was dating Quinn at the time and never really felt an urge to act on it. I noticed boys, sure, but it was like, _oh, that’s new_ , more than any big a-ha moment.” He cocked his head. “How long have you known you were gay?”

“Oh, always. I knew I was gay before I even knew the word to describe it.”

“Was it hard?”

Kurt pulled a face. “Not really. Dad and Riley always knew and they made sure I understood that it was okay to be gay, that _I_ was okay for being gay. They explained that not everyone was, and that some people didn’t like or agree with it, but they never made me feel it was something I should hide or of which I should be ashamed.”

Finn gave him a soft smile. “That’s awesome.”

“Does your mom know about you?”

“Yeah, I tell her everything. I couldn’t keep something from her if I tried. She’s got amazing mom-dar. She always knows when something’s up.”

“Is she okay with it?” Kurt asked in concern.

“Sure. She just worries sometimes that I’ll meet a guy who will trick me into sex before I’m ready.” He blushed. “I’m not dumb, but I’m not all that smart either.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Kurt said quietly. “I believe there are different types of intelligence. Some people are book-smart; others are smart about ideas or people. There are people who looked down on my dad because he only went to community college, but he’s one of the smartest people I know.

“He raised me and Riley, has a successful business, and now he’s a congressman. He didn’t get that far because he read the canon of Western literature. He knew his strengths, played to them, and worked very hard.”

Finn ducked his head, but his eyes sparkled.

A dismayed Kurt wondered how many people had told Finn he was dumb. What a horrible and cruel thing to tell a child.

“Do you have other relatives?” Finn asked. “I have a few cousins, but I don’t really know them that well. Mostly it’s just me and Mom, but it’s cool because she’s awesome.”

“I’m much the same,” Kurt said. “I do have an aunt, my mother’s sister. She’s a doctor and lives in Washington, so I visit her every time I go to D.C. with Dad. I’m very close with my godmother. She was Mom’s best friend at boarding school. She also lives in D.C.”

He was startled when Brittany collapsed beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “That’s enough dancing for a little while. How’s everything going, Kurty? Are you having fun?”

Kurt looked at Finn and smiled shyly. Finn beamed.

“I am, Sweetness. I’m having a very nice time. Thank you for inviting me.”

She looped her arm through his and shrugged. “You’re my best friend.”

He kissed her cheek.

“What’s everyone talking about?”

Kurt looked up into the warm brown eyes and smiled.

“Kurt! This is my best friend, Quinn!”

They exchanged salutations and handshakes.

A tired Brittany nudged Kurt’s shoulder. “Quinn speaks French too.”

Kurt’s eyes lighted. “Really? Are you fluent?”

Quinn nodded. “My mom majored in Romance languages in college, so she taught them to me and my sister when we were growing up. French came naturally to me, and I can understand Italian, though I don’t speak it very well. Emily latched onto Spanish. She speaks it better than she does English.”

She nodded to her left. “Santana speaks Spanish and Catalan.” She smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys.”

Finn smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

She kissed his cheek and slid into his lap. “Just so you know,” she said to Kurt, “Finn and I dated for about three years, but we’re not together anymore. I’m kind of like his Brittany.”

Brittany giggled.

Kurt looked at Finn. “Then you are very, very lucky.”

“I know,” Finn said with great seriousness. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Be much worse dressed than you are now,” Quinn quipped.

They all laughed.

“Kurt and I were just talking about our families.”

“Ooh!” Brittany exclaimed. “Did he tell you about Aunt Cam? She’s amazing. She cuts open dead people!”

Quinn and Finn stared.

Kurt snickered. “Aunt Cam’s a forensic pathologist. She heads the Medicolegal Division of the Jeffersonian Institute in D.C.”

Mercedes butted in. “Wait, your aunt is Camille Saroyan?”

Kurt raised a brow.

“Mercedes Jones,” the girl said, “and I make it my business to know about smart, powerful black women.” She paused. “No offense, but how are you related to her?”

Kurt bristled but didn’t offer the smart retort he desired. “Aunt Cam is my mother’s sister,” he said shortly. “Different mothers.”

It was obvious Mercedes wanted to interrogate him further, but didn’t wish to appear rude. Or it might have had something to do with the major side-eye Brittany was leveling at her.

Brittany scoffed, deciding he should go for broke. “Go on, Kurty. Tell her who your godmother is.”

Kurt looked at Mercedes and his reticence was obvious. “Olivia Pope,” he finally murmured.

“No way!” Mercedes shouted as Quinn gasped.

“Seriously?”

He offered a curt nod, extremely annoyed when everyone stopped and turned to stare at the girls’ outburst.

“Wow,” Finn whispered. “Do you know the President?”

Kurt fidgeted and then nodded.

“Well, it’s not so surprising, is it?” asked a hesitant Tina, after a long moment of silence. “I mean, his dad’s a congressman.”

He slowly exhaled with silent gratitude, but soured when Artie snorted.

“Yeah, right. Like every congressperson’s kid calls the President _Uncle Fitz_.” He winced when a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. He slowly looked up and into the dark eyes of an angry Mike.

“How much have you had to drink, Artie?” Mike asked.

A blush bloomed across Artie’s face. “Maybe a little too much,” he quietly admitted. “Sorry, Kurt. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Kurt gave him a hard look. “I didn’t know this bothered you,” he said stiffly.

Artie offered a mild shrug, but offered no rebuttal.

“I see,” Kurt said, rising to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get something to drink.”

Rachel had watched all of this with calculating eyes. Not only could Kurt sing and dance, but he knew powerful, important people? She couldn’t help but think of how a recommendation from _the President of the United States_ would look on her eventual application to NYADA.

 

* * *

 

As Finn was currently a little flabbergasted, Puck seized the opportunity and hotfooted it over to the refreshment table. He had been eyeing Kurt all night, but never had the chance to insert himself into the conversation to steal Kurt away. He knew Quinn was watching him as a favor to Finn, and that was some bullshit he didn’t need.

You didn’t turn your back on Quinn Fabray if you could help it. She was always waiting to stick a knife in it. Now, however, she was whispering into Finn’s ear, probably about how he should treat Kurt as he would anyone else, and Puck knew the time was right.

“Hey,” he said coolly, eyes casually darting about the room.

“Hello,” Kurt said absently.

“So we never got the chance to be properly introduced. The name’s Puck.”

Kurt blinked and slowly turned toward him. Wow, his eyes really were incredible.

“What’s your real name?”

Puck frowned. “Huh?”

“What is your real name?” Kurt repeated. “I’m sure it isn’t Puck.”

Puck’s brow furrowed. “Noah,” he said slowly, “but everyone calls me Puck.”

Kurt smiled and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you … _Noah_. I’m Kurt Hummel.”

Puck cautiously took it, still unsure how he felt about being addressed by his given name but, boy, was Kurt’s skin soft. Suddenly a naked Kurt was dancing in his head, rubbing all of that soft skin on every part of a naked Noah’s body.

He shook his head to clear it. Shit, when was the last time he had even called _himself_ Noah? Obviously Kurt was some kind of witch.

“Having a good time?” he asked.

Kurt sipped his water and nodded, a bit uncomfortably. “I was, until things became a little too familiar.”

“I get that,” Puck said seriously, “but you have to admit, it’s not everyone who’s on a first name basis with the President. That’s kind of a big deal.”

Kurt frowned. “I suppose that’s true. I’ve known Uncle Fitz for years, so it doesn’t even really register to me anymore. Intellectually, I know he’s the President, but he’s just Uncle Fitz to me. I’m one of the few with whom he can be himself.”

Puck nodded. “So I guess that means you know the whole family, right? The wife and kids. The First Lady is a hot piece.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “I’m not as close with Aunt Mellie but, yes, and I know her and the children.”

Puck understood he had been inappropriate and knew he had to scale back his douchebaggery. He didn’t want Kurt angry at him. He sensed that wouldn’t be a good thing at all. Probably best not to antagonize a kid whose honorary uncle could literally answer the question _you and what army?_

“So, you and A-Rex, huh?”

Kurt blinked. “Yes, I was with Artie for two years. Why?”

Puck shrugged. “I’ve known him, kind of, for a while now, and he never mentioned you. Or that he was dating at all.” He nodded his head. “See that girl over there? Asian Grim Reaper? She’s had it bad for him since last year.”

Kurt glanced and quickly schooled his features into disinterest. “I see.”

Puck cocked his head in confusion. Wow, really? That was all Kurt had to say on the matter?

“It’s not my business,” Kurt continued. “Artie is free to be with whomever he likes.”

Puck’s eyes softened, hearing the hurt underscoring the words. He knew he had to play this carefully. Not only was he genuinely interested in Kurt, but he didn’t want to make his pain greater than it already was.

“Were you in love with him?” he asked softly.

Kurt was quiet for a long moment before releasing a gentle sigh. “I don’t know. I thought I was. I do miss him, but I understand why he wanted to break up. If he’s also interested in girls, I don’t want to be the boy who holds him back from figuring out who he is. He’d only come to resent me.”

Puck stared. He sure as hell he didn’t know if he’d be as kind about someone who’d dumped him after that long together. He wondered if Kurt was sincere or just a really good liar skilled at hiding his feelings.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Puck began, “but you are gay, right?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Pan, actually.”

Kurt raised a brow. “Truly? I’m very intrigued by other sexualities. I’ve read a bit about pansexuality, but I’d be very interested in your take on it.”

“Wow, really?!” Puck exclaimed. He exhaled. “Sorry, it’s just that most people aren’t. They won’t even acknowledge it’s a real thing.”

Kurt scowled. “Then they’re very closeminded.”

Puck was astonished by his own gratitude. “That means a lot,” he said quietly, “that, you know, you believe that.”

Kurt offered an understanding smile. “I think it’s very sad that people whose sexuality is shunned would dare in turn shun others for theirs. I’m sure Finn has gotten it, too.”

Puck nodded. “Finn and I have been boys for years but, until recently, we had never really talked about it. I’ve always known it was the person I liked, not what was between their legs, but Finn took a while to figure himself out.”

He paused. “Some of the other jocks … they’ve said some stuff. Some really wrong stuff, like how Finn is confused or just greedy.” He shook his head. “But he’s really not. I mean, dude’s a virgin. He’s not giving it to anyone who asks, and he’s been asked. Just because he likes both chicks and dudes doesn’t mean he’s easy or whatnot.”

“Is that what they say about you?” Kurt gently asked.

Puck flushed and looked away in shame. Suddenly he felt a warm, soft hand on his cheek.

“It’s not true,” Kurt whispered. “There’s nothing wrong with sex or liking sex. I’m waiting because I know I’m not ready for it, but there’s no shame in enjoying sex. As long as you’re doing what you want and not hurting anyone, it’s no one’s business.”

Puck gulped and his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” Kurt murmured, “come sit with me over here.”

Puck shambled along as Kurt led him to the wingback chairs by the fireplace. He set Puck down in a one and took the opposite, continuing to hold the boy’s hand. Puck would talk when he was ready.

Five minutes passed as Kurt took delicate sips of his water.

“I lost it when I was twelve,” Puck muttered. “It hurt a lot.”

Kurt winced. “It was with another boy?”

Puck nodded. “My babysitter, this guy from temple. He was seventeen.”

Kurt’s eyes widened.

“He didn’t rape me or anything,” Puck rushed to say. “I wanted it. I wanted him, I did, but I don’t think I was really ready for how far it went.”

He sighed. “I developed first, you know? Up until sixth grade, I was the tallest kid in class. I worked out, got muscles. I was so horny all the time, but I didn’t understand it. All of a sudden I had a huge dick and it was always hard and it wouldn’t go away unless I jerked it. The doc my ma took me too said stuff about early puberty and hypersexuality, but all I knew was that there was hair in weird places and I couldn’t stop staring at tits and ass.”

His hand tightened around Kurt’s fingers and was warmed and relieved when Kurt responded in kind. He didn’t know why he was talking about this, except Kurt was really cool and wasn’t judging him or anything. He probably shouldn’t have been drinking.

“This guy,” Puck continued, “I really, _really_ liked him. He was a great babysitter. He didn’t just ignore me and my sister. He played games with us and helped me with my homework and stuff. “I just … I don’t want you to think he was some creeper, because he wasn’t. I … I was the creeper.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Kurt said.

Puck sighed. “I know that it’s wrong and illegal. You know how they say kids aren’t sexual or whatever? Well, I was. I couldn’t help it. I thought about it all the time. I was jacking off five or six times a day. And this guy … Jesus, he was beautiful. And he was a good guy. But the older I got, I … I really wanted him to touch me.”

“Was it sexual or just physical?”

“Both, I think. He would always hug me, but I would try and make the hugs last for as long as I could. I’d sneak my fingers under his shirt and stroke his back. It felt so _good_. His skin was warm and soft, and I just wanted to touch him all the time. I knew he was uncomfortable, but he never said anything. So I just kept doing it. And other stuff.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear this.”

“I do if you want to tell me,” Kurt said. “I think you’ve wanted to tell someone for a while.”

Puck eyed him with suspicion. “But you’re not saying anything.”

“Because I’m listening,” Kurt patiently explained. “It’s not my place to say anything unless or until you ask me.”

Puck blinked in confusion. “Okay. Well, one afternoon, he had come over and we were playing video games. I, uh, I kept moving closer and closer to him, and finally crawled in his lap.” He closed his eyes. “He got hard. Instantly. I fucking loved that, man, that I did that. That I caused that. And he was so mortified. I knew he wanted to push me away, but he was scared to touch me."

Puck suddenly retreated, his eyes dimming, which Kurt recognized. He knew this was not yet the time to press the many points he wanted to make. The last thing Noah needed was for anyone else to judge him, which Kurt felt far too many had done, when they weren't dismissing him or outright sneering.

“By that time," Puck said, "I’d practiced giving head on bananas and popsicles for months. I’d already put things in my ass to see how it felt. And it felt _good_. All of it felt really good.”

He delivered his words as though they were a challenge before he then gave Kurt an anxious look. “Am I freaking you out?”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “No. Why would you think that?”

Puck shrugged. “Most people do when I talk about sex.”

Kurt frowned. “I think it might be because of _how_ you discuss it. Most people can’t handle such frank honesty. Despite all the progress we’ve made as a country, we’re still pretty puritanical, especially when it comes to sex. A lot of people still are afraid to talk about it, or they want to pretend they’re above it and don’t have sex drives of their own. Others are embarrassed. I like that you’re not.”

“Really?”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking sex. My brother and I were actually talking about this on the way here.”

Puck grinned. “He gave you the talk, huh?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Please. I borrowed _The Joy of Sex_ from the library when I was seven. I probably know more about it than people who are actually having it. I don’t understand why there’s this cycle of shame and blame about it. I mean, let’s get real: we all started out as missed periods, so there’s no reason for anyone to get all high and mighty.”

Puck blinked and then burst into hysterical laughter, throwing himself over the arm of the chair and pounding it with his fist. Kurt’s lips twitched, which only caused Puck to laugh harder. That, in turn, caused the others to turn toward them and stare.

“What’s so funny?” Santana demanded, stomping toward them.

She wanted to kick herself for not realizing the Puckhole had absconded with Kurt and sequestered him in a dimly lighted corner. She had promised Riley she would look out for his bro and she took that shit seriously. Still, from the look on Kurt’s face, he appeared to be enjoying himself.

Kurt quirked up his lips. “I was just explaining to Noah …”

Several people gasped, particularly when Puck didn’t object to the use of his given name. Rachel in particular was very much affronted.

“… that sex is nothing about which anyone should be ashamed.”

Santana cocked her head and stared.

“No, no, no,” Puck wheezed, trying to get himself under control. “Out of nowhere, this hot ass drops this statement: _we all started out as missed periods, so there’s no reason for anyone to get all high and mighty_.”

Santana looked at Puck, and then to Kurt, and broke out in laughter, quickly followed by Brittany, Mercedes, Matt, and Tina.

“So you’ve had a lot of sex?” Rachel blurted at Kurt.

He raised a brow and stared at her. “That is absolutely none of your business, and it’s appalling you felt it was in any way acceptable to ask that question.” He paused. “Since you did, however, I have no problem admitting that I’m a virgin. I’m waiting for the right man.”

“I guess that man wasn’t Artie,” Rachel said.

“What the fuck?” Puck barked. “What’s it matter to you? Neither one is ever going to give you a tumble, so why do you care?”

“That was rude, Rachel,” Brittany said quietly.

Silence descended over the room. Brittany was closer to some present than others, but everyone knew that, when she bothered to get offended, a line had been crossed. Considering how pissed off Brittany already was with Rachel due to Kurt’s introduction to the rest of the group, it was only a matter of time before she started throwing punches.

Rachel colored and fell silent. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I don’t know why I act like this.”

“I don’t know why you feel threatened by me,” Kurt said. “I have no interest in joining your club and we’re in different grades. We’re not in competition for anything. Why do you act like we are?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she repeated, conscious of Finn and Quinn’s glares on her. “I’ve just always been that way.”

He shrugged and turned back to Puck. “Would you mind if we continued this discussion later, Noah?” he asked quietly. “I doubt we’ll be able to pick up where we left off.”

Finn wanted to ask just where that was, but Quinn gripped his shoulder and he held his tongue. That was probably for the best because, after slowly exhaling, he knew he would have said something just as obnoxious as Rachel. He thanked her with a quick glance, happy when she smiled back.

“Sure,” Puck said, looking down. “I mean, if you want to.”

“I do,” Kurt said, squeezing Noah's hand and nodding, "but this is supposed to be a party, so let’s have some fun.” He turned to Brittany. “Where’s Uncle Ricky?”

“I think Daddy is in the garage. He’s decided this month that he’s one of the Property Brothers.”

Kurt snickered. “I spy a karaoke machine. Why don’t you all show me what you can do?”

Predictably, Rachel was the first to queue up.

 

* * *

 

Three minutes later, Kurt was bored out of his mind.

Rachel was good, very good. She had a one-in-a-million voice, at least in Ohio. He had the sense that if she were to move to New York or Los Angeles, she would quickly discover hundreds of girls just like her.

He thought what she really needed were lessons in presentation and technique. Of course she was singing a Streisand song; the problem was that she sang it exactly as Streisand had. There was nothing fresh or exiting about her delivery and, quite honestly, she simply didn’t have the same level of mastery even a young Streisand had possessed, though there was definite potential.

The most prominent issue was that while she knew how to mix her voice, she waited too long to do it. By the time she went for the glory note, there was a noticeable beat where she simply wasn’t singing. This had the unfortunate effect of producing a piercing squeak as she tried to ascend the key and round out the note. He couldn’t determine if she was incapable of glissando, or simply ignorant of it.

She also needed to learn to cater to her audience. Wasn’t she aware that, like him, everyone was bored? Yeah, he loved Streisand, but this wasn’t the avenue to express it. Rachel should be singing something with which the others were at least familiar. Not to mention that her performance was mostly static; she didn’t really move with the music. Oh, she tried, but it just came off as awkward. Then there were the faces. She absolutely needed to get those under control.

Still, there was no denying she was extremely talented. Most of the glaring issues were cosmetic and, with a bit of training, could be easily corrected. He had the sense, however, that she wasn’t open to criticism and he wasn’t about to deliver any. This wasn’t a lesson.

Rachel finished her song and stood there beaming, waiting for her due. She was met with half-hearted applause, which Kurt thought was rather sad. She deserved better, deserved _more_ , but had gone out of her way to be utterly generic.

Mercedes rolled her neck and stomped forward, plucking the microphone from Rachel’s hand and pushing her out of the way. Kurt wasn’t too surprised. He had sensed their rivalry even upon that abominable first meeting.

She immediately launched into an Aretha Franklin number. Her tone was warmer and richer, and more technically difficult, than that which Rachel had offered, but it still left Kurt feeling cold. As with Rachel, he was awed by Mercedes’ talent, but she hadn’t picked a song that would truly showcase it. Instead, she too was trying to mimic the original singer and the song suffered for it.

He thought highly of Aretha Franklin, but preferred the smoother sounds of Gladys Knight. He respected Aretha, but Mercedes had done herself no favors. Her voice was too light to handle the song in the same manner, and her runs were a little sloppy. She was still so much better than almost anyone he had heard their age, as was Rachel, but they appeared to have trouble selecting material to make them shine.

Mercedes received more appreciation from the audience than Rachel had, which Kurt thought was a little sad. They were both tremendous singers who deserved to be acknowledged. He couldn’t tell if Mercedes was liked more than Rachel or just hated less. Both of them appeared to be loners, although Mercedes tended to gravitate toward the Korean girl whom Puck said liked Artie.

Kurt knew there was no way he could have done what they just had. His instructor had explained to him that his voice wouldn’t begin to mature fully until he was almost thirty. Right now, he had a tremendous and flexible range, but his voice bordered on thin. He had perfect pitch and never struggled with breath control or voice mixing, but he was anxious for a richer tone.

He could actually accomplish that when he used his modal register, but he was often too insecure to do so. Indeed, the widest part of his range was at that end and he feared losing control of the notes. His head voice was more rigorously trained because his chest voice really hadn’t begun to develop until last year.

He had used it when he sung the Carpenters’ song in the jazz band rehearsal. People had appeared to like it, but Kurt was less sure. It had been difficult to sing and most people didn’t truly understand what an amazing talent Karen Carpenter had been. Her voice sounded simple because she tended to use uncomplicated arrangements, but she’d had a solid three octaves and knew exactly what to do with them. Her low notes had been gorgeous, the stuff of legend.

After Mercedes was through, she attempted to cede the floor to Kurt, but he passed. Mercedes had given him a look which suggested she thought he was scared to follow her, which really was so much nonsense. He was far more concerned with picking an appropriate selection.

He didn’t want to perform an aria; he wasn’t a snob, but he doubted opera would go over well with the crowd. He didn’t want to sing a ballad, even though that was where he most shined, because it would be assumed he was singing it to or about Artie, whether or not it was true. He wanted to use his chest voice, even though just the thought made him anxious, because he didn’t want to be pigeonholed as a countertenor. He might not have been comfortable outside that fach, but he was certainly capable of doing more.

It was a tall order.

He listened with interest as Quinn, Brittany, and Santana performed _No Scrubs_ to much laughter and appreciation from the other girls and feigned outrage from the boys. Quinn and Brittany had similarly uncomplicated voices, albeit it with different tones. Brittany’s voice was thinner but more flexible, while Quinn’s tone was richer and warmer. Comforting, Kurt thought.

Santana was absolutely outstanding. He definitely wanted to sing with her in the near future. She wasn’t as polished as Rachel or Mercedes, but her performance was all the better for it. There was such a thing as overthinking a piece, as Rachel had, or rendering it a caricature, like Mercedes had almost done. Santana’s talent and passion rushed to the fore and it was impossible to take your eyes from her.

Tina’s ability was very similar to that of Santana, and her cover of _You Gotta Be_ was both touching and a lot of fun. The only criticism he could muster was that she didn’t have much charisma. He thought this was more indicative of a reserved nature than a lack of personal magnetism. Even though she looked like she was having a blast, there was always an undercurrent of anxiety, as though she couldn’t believe she was actually doing this and was waiting to fail.

The boys were interesting, but mostly forgettable. Kurt had nothing against covers, but felt the artist had a duty to inject some originality into their performance. Otherwise, what was the point? The performance would never be as unique or interesting as the original. It was really no different from karaoke.

He liked Finn’s voice a great deal. His tenor was a bit raspy and could produce an interesting metallic effect, but he struggled at the upper end of his range. It was apparent he hadn’t exercised it much, if at all, and his breathing became labored. Surprisingly, this didn’t occur when he belted, perhaps because he was better prepared and his breath more supported, but with the less powerful notes.

Kurt sincerely hoped there was something other than Journey in Finn’s repertoire, otherwise he would be extremely limited in what he could do. That said, he was good. Very good.

Noah’s voice was deeper and more assured, but there was also something … smarmy … about his performance, almost as though he was demanding his sexiness be acknowledged. It was very self-serving, though also very accomplished. Kurt wondered if Noah ever sang just for the sake of it, in those little unguarded moments everyone had, rather than always in search of accolades.

Artie passed, saying he’d had too much to drink, but Kurt suspected the other boy was waiting to see what he would do. Kurt certainly hoped Artie wasn’t expecting him to serenade him, because that was never going to happen. He was still pissed off about Artie’s earlier comment regarding his relationship with Uncle Fitz. He wasn’t about to apologize because he knew and loved someone powerful, but he wondered how long Artie had been jealous of it, and why he had never said anything. It was just a dick move.

Mike and Matt refused to sing, even with each other, stating unequivocally that they had no interest in being solo artists or a duet act. They were perfectly happy being in the background and wouldn’t be swayed from that way of thinking.

That just left Kurt.

He knew this without everyone turning to regard him with interest, though they did. He offered a mild shrug and stood, making his way to the karaoke machine. Inspiration had finally struck and he knew what he would sing.

He was going to do a ballad because he knew that was where he most shined, but he would nix any idea about it being a romantic overture. Some of these people appeared to forget you could sing a slower song, one that told a story, without making it about sex or the idea of wanting sex.

He carefully scrolled through the selections and was pleased to find the one he wanted. When he looked back at the audience, he found Brittany and Mike grinning at him. Uncle Ricky had also arrived and was waiting patiently. Kurt smiled and nodded at him.

He adored Brittany’s father and had ever since he was a child. Uncle Ricky had been like a second father to him, as well as his first romantic ideal. He was tall and lithe, with a face so perfect it could have been sculpture. Brittany had his sky-blue eyes and high cheekbones, but not his strong, aquiline nose and full, pouty lips. Their hair was similar, both blond, but Patrick’s was more of a tawny color and fell in loose, Byronic curls.

He was a stunning man and Kurt had been crushing on him for years. It had never become inappropriate, even after puberty began, because he simply loved the man too much and had known him too long ever to think of him as anything other than his favorite adult.

Patrick, for his part, merely sat there, filled with confidence his honorary nephew was about to show these kids what talent really was.

Kurt had eyes only for Mike and Brittany. “For my best friends.”

Brittany beamed and Mike blushed and ducked his head, a shy smile on his face. Santana and Matt considered Kurt more carefully, surprised yet warmed that Kurt had chosen his artistic statement to honor friendship, not immature love or teenage angst.

That Brittany and Mike clearly meant so much to him, that he was unafraid and even eager to acknowledge it, was important. It was their opinion Brittany and Mike were never heralded the way they deserved, so this mattered. A lot.

Kurt mentally sped through the music and lyrics. He was hoping it would be unfamiliar to most, as it had never been released as a single. This would subtly encourage the audience to pay attention to the words and not sing along with them; or, with this crowd, judging his interpretation and pondering how they themselves could make it better. That was always a danger with other vocalists.

The arrangement was challenging, particularly because there was no opportunity to change the key. He knew he could make the notes, but would have preferred to fine-tune it just a bit. He also had no plans to sing it as Demi Lovato had in the original version. His voice wasn’t hers and his technique was drastically different. Lovato tended to lower her larynx to hit notes, which was unhealthy.

He slowly exhaled, surprised to find he wasn’t nervous. He was singing to his best friends and didn’t care what the others thought of him. He pressed the button and centered himself.

A gentle synthesizer emerged from the speakers.

“ _Your light is inside of me_ ,” he sang, smiling at Brittany and Mike, “ _like a raging roar. Like an ocean born, you’re in my veins_.”

If you’re lucky, you walk through life with one true friend at your side. Kurt had two and knew just how fortunate he was. He loved them in ways separate from his love for family. He felt safe confiding his secrets to them and trusted he would never be betrayed. Brittany and Mike were the first people, outside of his family, to whom he came out. They embraced him wholeheartedly and thanked him for believing in them so much.

“ _Your voice is serenity when the sun goes down, and the strength I’ve found is in my veins_.”

And it wasn’t unilateral. He happily held their secrets and guarded them with his very being. This unique and unfathomable trust had made him stronger, made him better, and made him more willing to live a life in the sun, rather than the shadows. It was a freedom he knew many were never afforded, so he made sure often to voice his gratitude.

“ _Our story binds us, like right and wrong. Your hands in mine, marching to the beat of this storm_.”

When they had discovered and then became obsessed over Doctor Who, they completely understood why Rose Tyler had argued it was better with three. Theirs was a perfect triad that operated according to rules and boundaries agreed upon long ago. They finished each other’s sentences; sometimes, they shared thoughts without speaking. No one, not even his father or Riley, understood him better than Brittany and Mike, and they had done so for as long as he could remember.

His voice ascended a key. “ _And we walk together into the light, and my love will be your armor tonight. We are lionhearts._ ”

They were stronger together, their bond formed that first day of their first shared dance class. Common interests and beliefs only cemented the bond. Their values were totally in sync, and those small differences that erupted only enhanced their friendship, making them stronger individuals. It was inordinately special that their relationship made each of them better while contributing to the strength of the group as a whole.

“ _And we stand together facing a war. And our love is gonna conquer it all. We are lionhearts_.”

Sometimes it felt as though it were the three of them against the world; even then, they never faltered. They never believed they wouldn’t triumph. All for one and one for all. If one had a problem or concern, it was taken up by the others. If one had a goal, it became the goal of the unit and all three worked to accomplish it. If one was singled out, the person or issue would be tackled by them all.

“ _You’re here like a silhouette when the darkness rules. You’re the brightest moon, and I am safe_.”

Mike stared at Kurt and bit his lip so hard, he drew blood. He laced his fingers through those of Brittany, unsurprised she had tears streaming down her face. They both knew Kurt could sing and do it well. They had heard snippets while waiting for his lessons to finish or from whatever recital piece he was tackling, but never before had he sung _to_ them. It was intimate, and they felt his voice soaring through every cell in their bodies.

He repeated the chorus and there was suddenly a palpable shift in his stance and breathing.

Rachel and Mercedes had been enjoying the experience immensely. For real lovers of music, there was nothing like a live performance. The lyrics were given life and emotion beyond mere words, the song transcending notes and measures, and transformed into living art.

They most appreciated the lack of artifice in Kurt’s singing. He didn’t compete with the music, but reinforced it. He didn’t force the music, but let it flow through him freely. He wasn’t melodramatic; instead, his voice gave the song a voice of its own. It was a beautiful voice, filled with passion and appreciation, yet controlled and smooth.

They looked around and were mostly unsurprised by what they saw. Finn was watching Kurt avidly, as was Puck, although their expressions were very different.

Finn appeared in awe of the technical mastery Kurt was exhibiting. There were no missed notes. There was no flatness or straining. Kurt could have been recording this for an album and no retakes would have been necessary. He hadn’t even warmed up! He had merely stood there, opened his mouth, and sang. Perfectly.

Finn knew this was something he could not currently do. He doubted he would ever be this good. He knew he could sing, but was also aware he needed training. It was one of the few activities in which he didn’t mind putting in extra effort. He wanted to sound good. Singing well produced an effect in him like nothing else, not even scoring a touchdown. Kurt’s performance touched him in ways that even his favorite bands could never accomplish.

For Puck, it was something else entirely. Kurt stood before them, so open, so honest, all but naked, and invited them to participate in his love for his best friends. The music was pretty and Kurt’s voice was on point; that was to be expected. It was the emotion he fed into the song, and thus all of them, which was just so awesome. His voice was actually getting them high.

Kurt _meant_ the words he was singing, even if they were penned by another. The performance was so _genuine_ and unlike anything he had ever heard Rachel offer. Puck knew enough about music to know Rachel was phenomenal, but she always left him feeling as though she sang only to please herself. Kurt’s goal, on the other hand, was to share his joy, his pleasure, and make it applicable for his audience.

Rachel had skill. Kurt had a _gift_.

“ _You’re never far from where I am. Like a lighthouse, bring me home_ ,” Kurt sang, his tone gentle and warm, causing Brittany to sniffle. “ _You’re never far from me. Let your spirit glow_.”

As Puck examined the others, he felt Santana was enjoying a similar experience and was probably debating possible duets she could sing with Kurt. Few knew just how much she loved music and performance. New Directions gave her an opportunity to explore that, but she wasn’t in it for trophies or acknowledgement. She just loved singing.

Quinn appeared totally beguiled. She had originally joined the club as Sylvester’s spy, but Puck knew her well, and he knew Quinn was enjoying herself far more than she let on during rehearsals. This was actually becoming important to her, one of the brightest spots of her days, and it was people like Kurt, who sang beautifully but wasn’t arrogant, who impressed her the most.

Artie looked utterly morose and Puck didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. Artie was his bro, but obviously didn’t know what a good thing he had when he had it. Well, as far as he knew. The truth was Puck didn’t know Kurt well enough yet to make such a judgment but, from everything he’d seen and heard, Kurt was a very decent person. People like that were few and far between.

Gothica was squirming and fidgeting in her seat, looking like she was getting ready to rush the makeshift stage and cuddle Kurt into oblivion. Tina didn’t appear to have very many close friends, and her relationship with Mercedes came across as one born more of proximity than feeling. Puck wondered how her crush on Artie would fare when she was obviously so enamored of his ex-boyfriend.

Matt looked pleasantly blissed, so Puck decided to dump out all the shit in his head and just surrender to the voice.

“ _And we walk together into the light_ ,” Kurt sang, “ _and our love will be our armor tonight_.”

He gathered his breath and squarely planted his feet as the music began to reach crescendo. “ _We are …_ ”

He bent at the waist as the next note was torn from his gut in an incredible belt that ascended a key and whose resonance sent delicious shocks down the spines of all present.

“… _lionhearts!_ ”

Rachel gaped as Mercedes jumped to her feet and began fist-pumping. “Hell to the yes!”

She was quickly followed by Quinn and Tina, who burst into simultaneous applause, as Finn clambered to his feet with a look on his face which suggested he either wanted to place a laurel wreath on Kurt’s head, or tackle him to the floor and lick his face.

“ _And we stand together facing a war!_ ” Kurt wailed. “ _And our love is gonna conquer it all! We are lionhearts!_ ”

Kurt again belted the last word before ending it with a sublime vocal run which ascended and then descended the measure, highlighting each and every tiny note a standard delivery might have ignored.

Puck closed his eyes and hugged himself, desperately denying he wanted this for himself. That he wanted someone – _Kurt_ – to serenade him, to make him feel the obvious joy and adoration Mike and Brittany were directing at Kurt.

“ _And we walk together into the light! And our love will be our armor tonight! We are lionhearts!_ ”

The final note was turned into a fermata, held for an impossible number of beats and continuing past where the instrumentation ended, and was so full and bright, so uncompromising, unsecured objects around the room began vibrating.

Kurt ended the note and began slightly panting, placing his hand on his stomach as he gave Brittany and Mike a faint smile. They stood and raced toward him, trapping him between them as they cooed their love and appreciation. Brittany placed a sloppy kiss on Kurt’s cheek, causing him to burst into laughter, before she shoved him right against Mike’s chest.

She continued to stand behind Kurt and slowly turned her head to give the others an evil grin. She raised a brow and put her hands on her hips before shifting slightly and looking back at Mike.

“ _Kiss him!_ ” she mouthed.

Before he could let his thoughts get the better of him, Mike complied, lowering his head and pressing his mouth against Kurt’s impossibly soft lips.

Wow. Like, wow! _Wow_.

This … Mike felt like he was born to do this. He was born to love Kurt Hummel. And this, this kiss, was the most natural and important thing he would ever do. He didn’t care who was looking. He didn’t care about Brittany or his mom or his other cheerleaders who insisted he and Kurt belonged together. He didn’t care about Artie, Finn, or Puck.

Artie might have been gifted with Kurt’s first kiss, but Mike planned to make sure no one other than him would ever get to kiss Kurt Hummel again.

And when Kurt began to kiss him back, everything went white.

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Puck's first time: this is a topic that will be revisited in subsequent chapters. It was obviously an event which impacted him greatly and the ramifications are still being felt.
> 
> The topic was not fully addressed because this was neither the time nor the place, and Kurt and Puck are yet good enough friends to discuss it further, though that will change. So, please, don't message me with comments about how it was glossed over. It will be addressed again and in more depth.


	6. Open Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for possible diabetes.
> 
> We're talking serious schmaltz, here.

Mike was lost in sensation but, just as he was about to deepen the kiss, Kurt gently pulled back and ducked his head, a blush and shy smile on his face.

Mike was slightly panting and wondering what he could do to get another kiss, but he was pushed to the side by a cheering Brittany, who wrapped her arms around Kurt and babbled inanities before spiriting him away. Santana followed.

“And how long has this been going on?” demanded a sloppy Artie, who was glaring at Mike as though he could turn the other boy to stone.

Mike abruptly came down from his high and scowled. “Since about ten seconds ago. What the hell is your problem, anyway? You broke up with him.”

Artie opened his mouth to reply but just as quickly closed it. He couldn’t argue that very real truth. After all, he had dumped Kurt more than three months ago. Some part of his mind knew that Kurt would eventually move on with someone else. He just didn’t expect it would hurt so much.

“Nice of you to give the rest of us a chance,” Puck barked at Mike.

Mike narrowed his eyes and turned toward Puck, and then Finn, who was being comforted by Quinn. “Did you ever stop and think for just a moment that Kurt is a person and not a prize to be won? I’ve known him for almost ten years. You two met him two days ago.”

He looked back at Artie, his frown deepening. “As for you, you had your chance. Don’t blame me because you fucked it up. Besides, don’t you like girls, too? Why don’t you get your own kiss from Tina? She’s been dying to give you one for months and the rest of us are sick of watching her pine for someone who doesn’t deserve her.”

Tina squawked.

“Don’t drag Tee into your nonsense!” Mercedes yelled. “This has nothing to do with her!”

“Please. Of _course_ it does. She’s liked Artie since last year.” Mike shook his head. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention, Mercedes, but Artie has, and was doing so way before he broke up with Kurt.”

Mercedes blinked.

“If I had known then that Artie was Kurt’s mysterious boyfriend, believe me, I would’ve said something before now.”

“Please don’t fight,” said a worried Rachel.

Mike sighed. “I’ve waited for Kurt for a long time. I could’ve interfered with his relationship with Artie, but I didn’t because I respect Kurt and want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. I’m not going to apologize for wanting him or kissing him. Artie dumped him. Finn and Puck have no relationship with him other than some conversation tonight.

“I don’t get why I’m being treated like the bad guy here. Most of you don’t even know Kurt. Whatever you believe you might feel for him is not my business or concern.”

Matt stood and crossed to his friend. “Let’s get out of here.”

Mike nodded. “Let me find Kurt first.”

They left the room and the rest suddenly realized Brittany’s father was still present, slowly turning toward them.

Patrick arched an eyebrow. “Mike was right. Kurt is not anyone’s toy and his future is not for you to decide. He not only didn’t stop Mike from kissing him, but kissed him back. What happens next is between them.”

He stood. “I’m fairly certain the party is over. Thank you, on Brittany’s behalf, for coming. I’m sure you can show yourselves out.”

He left the room. The others looked at each other in apprehension and confusion.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Artie hissed, slamming his hand on the rail of his chair.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why not. Mike and Kurt are two cute, hot boys who have been friends for years and tonight it went to the next level. Something might come of it or nothing might. Regardless, it’s not our business.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” said a hurt Finn.

“I am on your side, but you’re being ridiculous. As Mike said, you have no relationship with Kurt other than some light flirting earlier tonight. You’re not _owed_ a chance with Kurt simply because you want one. If Kurt decides to date Mike, you have to respect that. If he wants to remain single, tell him you like him and see what he says.”

Finn offered a forlorn sigh in reply. He knew Quinn was right. He also felt like an ass because he knew he was acting like a child denied the sweet he wanted. Sure, Kurt was gorgeous and funny and super talented, but that didn’t mean they were right for each other. He had enjoyed talking with Kurt tonight, but you couldn’t build a relationship from one conversation.

Rachel eyed him slyly. “There are other fish in the sea, Finn,” she said lightly.

Finn frowned. “I don’t know how to fish.”

“I’m sure I could …”

“Back off, Pygmy Queen,” Quinn snapped.

Rachel flushed and fell silent, knowing she had to play this just right. If she was ever to have any chance with Finn, she had to get on Quinn’s good side or remove her from the picture altogether. She certainly preferred the second option, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Quinn was extremely popular and had far more friends than she did.

Finn looked at Quinn. “May we go now, please?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Of course. Want to stop for a milkshake?”

Finn eagerly nodded, grabbed her hand, and escorted her from the room. The others heard the door close seconds later.

Artie had rolled himself into a corner of the room and texted his father to come and pick him up. He didn’t give specifics, but was sure he’d be asked why the party had ended earlier than scheduled. If he lied, his parents would know, just as they would surely know he had been drinking tonight.

He didn’t know what he was going to tell them. They loved Kurt and had been very sad and disappointed about the breakup. So far, Artie had managed to conceal that it was he who had dumped Kurt and not the other way around, and it upset and angered him that his parents just assumed it had been Kurt who had done the dumping.

He glanced at Tina, but seeing her conversing quietly with Mercedes encouraged him to leave now before he further embarrassed himself. He’d had no idea that his interest in her had been so obvious, but if Mike had seen it, he was sure to tell Kurt. His heart ached knowing that he continued to hurt Kurt with his dishonesty.

He rolled himself to the door, opened it, and exited to the porch. He was lucky the Pierces had a ramp. Apparently, Brittany’s grandmother, who had also been confined to a chair, had lived with the family before she had passed away a few years ago.

He sensed a line had been drawn tonight and it worried him. He had made an ass of himself even before the kiss, admitting he had been jealous of Kurt’s relationship with the President, which made no rational sense. He had been exposed as the lecher and emotional cheater he was where Tina was concerned.

Even if she still liked him, and he couldn’t imagine why she would, it wouldn’t be easy. It was obvious to everyone he was jealous and still considered Kurt to be his.

He then realized he had just thought of Kurt as a possession and felt sick to his stomach. Why did he have to be such a dick all the time? He knew he was lucky Kurt had put up with him for as long as he had. Most others wouldn’t have.

He was so worried about being in a relationship that he hadn’t taken the time to process he had ended what had been a loving and successful partnership because …

Why had he done that again?

No, really. Why _had_ he dumped Kurt?

Jesus, shouldn’t he have figured that out before doing anything? What the hell was wrong with him?

 

* * *

 

 

“We should probably get out of here,” Tina said. “I don’t think Mr. Pierce was very happy with us.”

Mercedes shrugged. “So?”

“So this is his house,” said an exasperated Rachel.

“Whatever. You want to come back to my house, Tee?”

Tina smiled but shook her head. “Thanks, Mercedes, but I just want to go home. I need to think about some things and still have to finish my lit paper.”

“It’s not due until Thursday,” Mercedes argued.

Tina blinked. “It’s due _Monday_.”

“What?”

“Oh, my god, have you even finished reading the book?”

“I read the Cliffs Notes,” Mercedes said carefully.

Tina shook her head and stood. “Good luck, I guess. See you Monday.”

Mercedes sighed and watched the other girl leave. It hurt not having any friends. She tried so hard to make them, but it never worked out exactly as she wanted. If she were being realistic, she could only truly count Tina as a friend, but they weren’t very close. Quinn and Santana didn’t hate her, but they didn’t like her, either. Brittany was at least friendly to her.

Mercedes loathed Rachel and it was mutual. Finn tended to steer clear of them, as did Puck. Artie would at least usually say hello to her in the hall, but they shared no classes, and Mike was pretty indifferent to everyone who wasn’t Matt, Brittany, or Santana.

She had tried to catch Matt’s eye a few times, but he was always either focused on Mike or whatever he was drawing on his sketchpad. She didn’t know what to make of him. For a while, she thought Matt might be gay and in love with Mike but, from what she had observed over the last year, they regarded each other as brothers, not lovers.

Then she thought perhaps Matt just wasn’t into her, which hurt some, that the only black guy in their class wasn’t attracted to her in the slightest, but she’d never seen Matt check out anyone, boy or girl, black or white. She knew some guys took longer to mature than others and, other than football, Matt was pretty nerdy. He was into math and art and sci-fi stuff she had never heard of and didn’t even try to understand.

She felt so alone all the time, and whenever she tried to do something about it, it inevitably blew up in her face, like just now with Rachel. She didn’t know why she had been so disrespectful about leaving. It wasn’t her house and her mother would’ve been mortified by her behavior. She tried so hard to be sassy and cool, but knew she just came off as rude and dismissive.

Even in a club as low on the ladder as Glee, she was only tolerated. The sad truth, she was beginning to realize, was that it had nothing to do with her being black or a girl, but because of how she acted.

She grabbed her purse and left as quickly as possible before she began crying.

Puck and Rachel eyed each other. Finally, the boy sighed.

“Do you need a ride?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “I … yes, thank you.”

He nodded and walked toward the door, not waiting to see if she followed.

 

* * *

 

 

Mike assumed Kurt and the girls were in Brittany’s bedroom and headed in that direction. Both he and Matt had been to Brittany’s house so often, they could navigate it blindfolded.

“Mike?”

Mike paused in the hall and ducked his head in to Patrick’s study. “What’s up, Uncle Rick?”

Patrick waved them inside. “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate and respect what you said about Kurt to the others. They needed to hear it.”

Mike blushed and looked down at the floor.

Patrick smiled. “You’re a nice kid, Mike. I don’t know if you and Kurt will work out, but you’re both good boys and have my support.”

“Thanks,” Mike said shyly.

Patrick shooed them from the room and returned to the journal article he was reading. He didn’t worry about having the boys in his daughter’s bedroom. After all, he allowed Santana in there, knowing she was Brittany’s girlfriend. Besides, Kurt and Mike were gay, and Matt was … Matt.

 

* * *

 

“Everything okay in here?” Mike asked, poking his head into Brittany’s bedroom. He smiled when he saw Kurt squeezed between the girls on the bed. He was a little surprised to see Kurt curled up against Santana, but it also made a strange kind of sense. Honestly, if they had been introduced to each other before this morning, they would’ve been best friends a long time ago.

He _was_ surprised to see Santana laughing gently and not mockingly with someone other than Brittany, but it was nice. As close as he was to Brittany, he couldn’t say the same about Santana. He liked her, even respected her, but they didn’t hang out if Brittany wasn’t with them. Sometimes they would text about mutual annoyances, but they didn’t spend much time alone with each other, and that was okay.

Kurt rolled toward the door and blushed when he saw Mike. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“May we come in?” Mike asked Brittany, who nodded.

“Sure! You’re always welcome.”

He and Matt entered the room and sat on the floor by the bed, Mike studying Kurt for a long moment.

“Are we okay?”

Kurt frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well,” Mike said slowly, “I did just kind of kiss you without asking, which wasn’t cool. I’m sorry if I surprised or scared you.”

Kurt smiled again. “You surprised me, yes, but you certainly didn’t scare me.” He bit his lip. “It was a nice surprise, by the way,” he said softly.

Mike beamed. “I’m glad.”

“Are the others looking for us?” Santana asked, not really caring.

Mike and Matt exchanged a look.

“What happened?” Brittany asked.

Surprisingly, it was Matt who answered. “The party broke up. Artie made an ass of himself, Puck got all bitchy, and Finn was pouting like a little kid.”

Kurt’s eyes widened with alarm and dismay. “Because of me?”

“Not just because of you, no,” Matt was quick to assure him, “but some of it was about you. Don’t get upset. Mike told them all off.”

“Did he?” asked an interested Santana, turning toward the boy in question. “What did you say?”

Mike shrugged. “Basically that Kurt was an actual person and not a trophy for which they were competing.”

Santana smirked. “Excellent.”

“Thanks, Mikey,” Kurt said softly.

“Hey,” Mike said, reaching up for Kurt’s hand, “I would say that even if we hadn’t kissed. We’re still best friends, Kurty, and we’ll always be that. I can admit I was jealous of how Finn and Puck were looking at you, but I didn’t like what Artie said, or how he acted, and I had no problem telling him. Puck is bitchy in general, and while he did make a smart comment about not having a fair shot at you, he backed down pretty quickly when I said you weren’t a prize to be won.”

“I think he was embarrassed,” Matt said. “Well, as embarrassed as Puck can be about anything.”

“And Finn?” Brittany asked.

Mike sighed. “Well, honestly, Finn wasn’t that bad at all. I could tell just from looking at him that me kissing Kurt hurt his feelings, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just looked sad and, hey, I get that.”

Santana frowned. “Hudson isn’t a complete loser. He does act like a toddler a lot of the time, but Quinn keeps him in a firm grip. He’s actually really lucky to have her, because she’s the only friend he has who tells him what he needs to hear. She doesn’t give a shit if he doesn’t catch the damn ball. She just wants him to be happy.”

“I like her,” Kurt said.

“She’s a complete bitch,” Santana said. “That’s the only thing I like about her.”

Kurt collapsed in giggles and buried his head in Santana’s neck. When she only smiled in response, Mike and Matt blew out sighs of relief.

Brittany sighed and spooned herself against Kurt. “Thank you for our song, Kurty. It made me happy.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “You and Mikey make me happy, Sweetness. You always have.”

Santana’s mouth curved upward.

She had always felt as though Kurt Hummel were a specter lingering between her and Brittany. Despite the small size of their podunk town, they had never met. That happened more than most people realized. She and Brittany had gone through elementary and middle school together, closer than the best friends they purported themselves to be, while Kurt and Brittany only had dance classes together.

She had always known _about_ Kurt, she had never _known_ him.

He had worried her. It worried her that there existed someone who was almost as close to Brittany as she was, but knowing Kurt was gay and had no sexual interest in Brittany helped matters greatly. She had always worried what would happen when they met. She suspected Brittany had kept them apart on purpose, knowing her girlfriend’s tendency to shoot first and deal with questions never.

But then she had met Kurt and … honestly liked him. She _liked_ him, and that almost never happened. Even better, he liked _her_. He’d even said as much. It had been more years than she could count since she had made a friend of her own. Granted, Kurt belonged to Brittany, but Santana had the sense he would be her friend even if Brit wasn’t in the picture.

They just got each other, and it was such a relief. It was more than cathartic; it was _exultant_.

She had known Mike for years, and while they were probably friends, they just didn’t have a lot in common. Still, Mike had never been anything but respectful and kind toward her, despite knowing her personality. He was important to Brittany, and therefore to her, and she wanted him to be happy.

If Kurt made him happy, and if Kurt _wanted_ to make Mike happy, she’d be their best fruit fly. After Brittany, of course. And woe unto those who tried to start shit, because she’d be the one to finish it.

 

* * *

 

 

They had agreed to meet up before school on Monday. Mike was a little upset that Kurt had refused to hang with them at the mall tomorrow, but he understood how close Kurt and his brother were. It made sense that Kurt wanted to spend his weekend with Riley before the latter went back to campus.

Matt had gone home and Santana was spending the night with Brittany, so Mike kept Kurt company as he waited for Riley to pick him up.

“What is you want to ask me?”

Mike turned startled eyes on Kurt, who smiled.

“I know you, Mikey, and I know when you’re thinking hard about something. Tell me.”

Mike swallowed heavily and blinked. “What are we now?”

Kurt frowned and Mike instantly regretted voicing his question.

“Stop panicking,” Kurt said, taking Mike’s hand in his own. “I’m not sure _what_ we are now, but I know _who_ we are. We’re Kurt and Mike. We always have been. This is just a progression of that.”

He shivered and Mike scrambled to remove his letterman jacket and drape it over Kurt’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispered, snuggling into the warmth. He sniffed at the collar and smiled. “It smells like you. I’ve always liked the way you smell.”

“How do I smell?” Mike asked, feigning offense.

“Like my best friend.”

Mike’s eyes watered.

“I don’t know where this is going, Mike,” Kurt confessed. “Artie … he hurt me badly. I know it’s been three months but, for me, it feels like only three minutes.”

Mike looked away before he could let loose everything he wanted to say about Artie Abrams.

Kurt placed a finger against Mike’s lips. “Shh. The Artie I know and the Artie you know are two very different people, Mike. You didn’t know him before the chair.”

“You did?” asked a surprised Mike.

Kurt nodded. “He and I were friends almost as long as you and I have been. We met in scholastic enrichment classes after school.”

“What was he like?”

Kurt’s eyes became very sad. “Happy.”

Mike ducked his head. There wasn’t a lot he could say to that.

“Sometimes I’ve wondered if it would have been better had Artie never been able to walk,” Kurt mused. “They say you can’t miss what you never had, but I’m not so sure that’s really true.”

He sighed. “It was so very hard for him, Mike. Artie used to play soccer. He was on the swimming team. He even danced. His parents made him take tap.”

“That’s inhuman!” Mike protested.

Kurt snickered. “Artie thought so, too, though he was quite good. And it all went away in the space of mere moments because of one asshole who didn’t know when to stop drinking but got behind the wheel anyway.”

Mike bit his lip. He had never known what had caused Artie to be in a wheelchair. Artie never discussed it and everyone else in Glee knew better than to pry.

“People get so wrapped up in political correctness and phony outrage and policing the thoughts of others,” Kurt continued, “that they never really stop and think about what it means to be disabled in this country. They talk about awareness and understanding, but that’s all they do: talk.

“They don’t know what it is to be confined to a wheelchair all day, every day, except when you’re asleep. They don’t know how humiliating it is not to be able to bathe yourself or go to the bathroom on your own. They don’t know what it’s like to be out with your friends and you can’t enter a building, because it has no ramp.

“People would look at Artie with pity, but they never looked at him as though he were a _person_.”

Mike looked down, feeling somewhat ashamed. The truth of the matter was that he barely knew Artie. What he did know, he didn’t much like but, again, he hardly knew the other guy. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like to be Artie.

“Don’t think I’m excusing his behavior,” Kurt said, “because I’m not, but I know him better than anyone else. Artie has a very dark side to him, and it’s exacerbated when he drinks. I should have watched more carefully tonight and not let him get so out of control.”

“That’s not your job, Kurt,” Mike said gently.

“He’s still my friend, Mikey, whether or not he thinks so.”

Mike was truly humbled. Kurt was a much better person than, to his shame, he had ever realized.

Kurt cleared his throat and tightened his grasp on Mike’s hand. “I like you, Mike. I’ve liked you for a very long time. I just … I never thought you might like me back.”

“How long?” Mike asked, his voice warbling.

“Oh, years. Probably back in elementary school. When I finally realized that I was gay and what that meant, I realized at the same time that my feelings for you were becoming more than friendship. I was terrified of that, of losing the best friend I’ll ever have.”

“I liked you too,” Mike whispered, “back then. And now.”

A startled Kurt regarded him with wide, suspiciously wet eyes. “Really?”

The crack in Kurt’s voice echoed the one in Mike’s heart. All he could do was nod.

“Okay,” Kurt said slowly, trying to rein his emotions. “I guess the question is, what do we do now?”

“What do you want to do?” Mike asked, hoping he had kept the devastation from his voice. He couldn’t bear it if Kurt said things could go no further.

Kurt’s eyes searched Mike’s for a very long time. “I want to be with you.”

Mike gasped sharply and closed his eyes. “Thank god. Oh, thank god.”

Kurt pulled Mike into his arms and hid his face in the other boy’s neck. “But I need for us to take this slowly, okay? I don’t want to let my past with Artie dictate my future with you. I also need you to know and respect that I will always care about Artie. I’m not in love with him, but I do love him. He’s important to me.”

“I can’t promise I won’t be jealous,” Mike confessed.

“And that’s okay,” Kurt said, “as long as you come to me first and talk about it. I know Artie, and he will try and goad you. He’s not above throwing our relationship in your face. When he does, you need to take a breath and remember that I’m not with him anymore. That might have been his decision, but it’s one I’ve come to believe was the right one.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know how he can be, Mike. I know him better than anyone. I think … I think that was the primary reason he ended things. He’s at a place in his life right now where he wants to reinvent himself. To do that, he needs to be away from me. I remind him of a lot of painful things. I didn’t cause that pain, and he knows that, but I was there to witness it. I’ve seen him at his most vulnerable. For someone who has so little control over his life, that can be a tough thing to bear.”

“I can respect that. It won’t be easy, but I promise I’ll always come to you.”

Kurt smiled. “That’s all I ask.” He exhaled. “Now, about Finn and Noah. First of all, I like them, but as _people_ , not potential boyfriends. That’s not to say I don’t find them attractive, because I do, but I don’t want to be with them.”

“I’m scared that will change,” Mike admitted. “I know them. They’re very … charismatic.”

“I didn’t get that sense at all,” Kurt countered.

“Really?”

“Finn has very low self-esteem, Mike. He’s allowed most of the school and the faculty to convince him he doesn’t have much value off the football field. That’s just sad. I feel badly for him, but I also have no interest in trying to fix him, and I get the sense that's what Finn is looking for. He needs to fix himself, if he even really needs to be fixed. He’s handsome; he’s bright, although not an intellectual; and he has the potential to be a good man.

“That’s not to say I didn’t see the warning signs. I didn’t talk to him about anything of any real depth, but I got the sense that he can be jealous and manipulative, and I don’t have time for that.”

Mike heaved a sigh of relief. Most people didn’t see through Finn until it was too late.

“As for Noah, he told me things about himself tonight that I don’t believe he’s ever shared with anyone else, and I don’t think he was doing it to get into my pants. I won’t share what he said because he told them to me in confidence, but he’s desperately lonely.

“I’d heard about him and his pool business before I even got to McKinley. He’s cultivated this reputation of a gigolo, but I think he’s now realized he’s been trapped by his own machination. The problem is that no one cares enough about him to look beneath the surface. They don’t even care enough to acknowledge they’ve ever only seen the surface.”

Mike stared. “Two days and you know these guys better than me, and I’ve known them for years.”

Kurt smirked. “Books and cleverness, that’s me.”

Mike smiled. “Anyone who’s ever read the books knows the only reason Harry Potter triumphed was because of Hermione Granger.”

Kurt’s eyes softened. “I want this to work, Mikey.”

“Then we’ll make it work.”

Kurt tilted his head and stood, pulling Mike with him. “Riley’s close. Call me tomorrow?”

Mike released Kurt’s hand and nodded.

Kurt frowned. “This may be new, but it’s certainly nothing I intend to hide.”

He grabbed Mike’s shoulders and pulled his head down into a breathless kiss, which ended only when they heard someone shout “Yes!”

They turned and Kurt glared when he found his brother with a fist in the air and beaming like a lunatic. They then looked in the other direction when they heard applause break out. Brittany was doing cartwheels in her living room as Santana smirked at them through the window. Patrick had a soft smile on his face as he peeked at them through the door.

Kurt rolled his eyes but pressed another quick kiss to Mike’s lips. When he pulled away, he was smiling and slowly walked backward toward Riley’s car.

“ _All of my life, I have been waiting for just one boy_ ,” he sang. “ _And all of my life I have been waiting for all the joy of having someone that I can call my own. Who’ll come to my side when I am all alone._ ”

Mike quickly wiped his eyes. “ _And now you are here, and I’ve found a whole new world has opened for me. A world filled with joy, a world filled with all your love, eternally_.”

“ _For you say you’re mine_ ,” they sang. “ _You love me all the time, night and day, come what may._ ”

It was a promise, they knew. It might work or it might not, but they would always have each other, in whatever form that took. And it was enough.

“Night, Kurt.”

“Good night, Mikey.” 


	7. Act of Contrition

Riley made light conversation as he drove them home from Brittany’s party. It was obvious he was dying of curiosity about what had led to the kiss with Mike, he refrained from asking.

“You’re a really good brother,” Kurt said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Riley smiled softly in the moonlight. “You’ll never have to find out. And ditto.”

Kurt leaned against him and dozed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Burt tried and failed to pretend he wasn’t waiting up for them, frowning when Riley shepherded his sleepy brother into the house.

“How was the party?” he asked.

“A little melodramatic,” Kurt said, stifling a yawn, “but mostly nice. I’m glad I went.”

Burt nodded. “I’m glad, too, son. You need to get out more. You work too hard.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s playground.”

Riley blinked. “ _God_ , I wish I’d said that.”

“Too late. Good night, Hummels.”

“Night, baby,” Burt said as he watched Kurt ascend the stairs.

“See you in the morning, Mischa,” Riley called after his brother.

“Love you,” Kurt absently mumbled, waving over his shoulder.

They waited a few moments until they heard Kurt’s bathroom door close. Both knew he wouldn’t go to bed until he had changed out of his clothes and performed his nightly skin regimen.

“He okay?” asked a casual Burt.

Riley rolled his eyes. “He’s fine, Dad. It was just a small party.”

Burt harrumphed. He was allowed to worry. Kurt wasn’t a very social person and Burt remembered very well what went on at high school parties.

“Dad, I think you’re forgetting that Patrick was there overseeing everything, and you can certainly trust Mike and Brittany to look out for Kurt.”

Burt sighed. “I know. I don’t know why I’m like this with him. He’s a good kid.”

Riley knew he owed his brother for embarrassing him in front of his new boyfriend, and decided to do some of the heavy lifting for him. “And, as of tonight, he’s dating Mike.”

Burt stared at his eldest in perturbation.

Riley recognized the signs. “Stop, Dad. You’re doing it again.”

Burt huffed. “Doing what? Worrying about my son? Looking out for him?”

Riley scowled. “Treating him like he’s a little girl. Dad, you’ve known Mike since they were three years old. You love him like another son. You know he’s a good boy. Don’t even try to tell me you weren’t disappointed when Kurt began dating Artie instead of Mike.”

Burt opened his mouth to object, but Riley cut him off.

“We both know you wouldn’t be acting this way if Kurt were straight and I’d just told you he started dating Brittany.”

Burt sagged. Riley was right. Truth was, he had loved Mike since the boys were little kids, and in fact had always preferred him over Artie. He was also much closer to Peter and Mary, Mike’s parents, than he was to Sheila and Ira Abrams. He knew Mary had been wanting their boys together for quite some time, and Peter had made no secret about how much he adored Kurt.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Burt asked quietly. “I don’t want Kurt to lose his best friend.”

Riley bobbed his head. “It might not work,” he agreed, “but if it doesn’t, I don’t think they’ll allow themselves to lose their friendship. They love each other too much for that, and I’m sure Brittany will be watching over them.”

Burt softened and sat down. He didn’t know what he was carrying on about. Mike would treat Kurt well, he knew, and Brittany was like a lioness with them.

“Why do I keep doing this, Ri?” he whispered. “I have to stop before I drive him away completely.”

Riley collapsed into the chair next to the couch and studied his father. “I'd like to say that would never happen, Dad, but you need to stop thinking of Kurt as the little boy you dropped off at Jefferson all those years ago. You can’t just freeze time and keep him a kid forever. The more you try, the more he’ll resent you.”

Riley paused, considering what to say next, before deciding to break some unspoken fraternal rules. “Dad, Kurt and Artie never slept together.”

Burt looked at him strangely. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to understand that Kurt is perfectly capable of making good decisions. You know this already, but you refuse to see that he’s growing up. You forgot how old he was earlier tonight. It’s less than a year before he starts driving.”

Burt stared. Was that right? Could that possibly be right? Where had the time gone? What was he going to do when Kurt was mobile? When he could go where he wanted, when he wanted?

“Nothing will change, Dad. That’s what you don’t understand. You act as though the older Kurt gets, the more likely he’s going to turn into someone you don’t even know. Why? Why would he? I didn’t.”

“You and your brother aren’t the same person, Riley.”

“You’re right. Kurt is smarter than me. He’s kinder than me. He makes better decisions than I do. At fifteen, he knows himself better than I do at nineteen. He’s more responsible than the both of us put together, and you know it.”

“What the …”

“Dad, when you go to Washington, who do you leave in charge of the shop? Kurt. That started last year. You depended on a fourteen year old to manage an auto shop with three different locations and to direct men three times his age who helped raise him.

“What’s more, those guys listen to Kurt. Some of them helped _diaper_ him, but they listen to what he says and they follow his orders. Why? Because they trust him. They trust him to know what he’s doing and that he’ll do right by them. And he does. Kurt’s been doing the books for the shop since he was twelve years old. Why? Because he does them better than you.”

Riley stared at his father. “Let’s face it, Dad. Kurt does most things better than us.”

Burt deflated.

“You don’t think I know how you feel? What it’s like to stand next to someone who looks so much like Mom, who sounds so much like her, who _acts_ so much like her? There are moments where it kills me. I had twice as many years with her as Kurt did, but I honestly don’t know which of us misses her more.

“Every time I look at him, I see her. I know you do, too, but the difference is that I take comfort in the similarities, whereas you’re terrified you’ll lose him like you did her.”

Burt startled and gasped, tears springing to his eyes.

“Kurt’s not going anywhere, Dad. He’s fine and he’s healthy. He’s not the baby who died with Mom.”

Burt inhalation was ragged. “How … how did you know about that?”

Riley gave him a sad smile. “Because I was eight years old, Dad. I saw her pregnant with Kurt. I knew what she looked like when there was a baby inside of her.”

“It’s not … it’s not just that, Riley,” Burt warbled.

“It’s that he doesn’t need you, right? Not like I did.”

Burt’s eyes turned stormy. “You don’t understand. He needs _you_. He loves you. There’s never been any question about that. You’ve been as thick as thieves since he was born.”

“Because I’m not his parent,” Riley said patiently. “I’m just his big brother, Dad. My only job is to look out for him. I never disciplined him. I never punished him. I never scolded him.”

“Yeah, well, I never had to do much of that, either.”

“Because he learned from my poor example,” Riley countered. “He watched me screw up a lot, Dad, and he learned from my mistakes.”

“Now, wait a minute, son. You didn’t …”

“Oh, yes, I did, and we both know it. Was I a bad kid? No, but neither was I the model child Kurt has always been. Kurt was sad when Mom died, and I think that sadness will always remain with him, but I was _angry_. I acted out. How many times were you called to school because I’d gotten into fights? How many times was I sent home from games or friends’ houses because I was too aggressive?”

“You were mourning your mother.”

“Yes, but I was also a little asshole. I never was with Kurt, and I thank god every day that I never turned my anger on him. Instead, like I said, I looked at him and saw Mom. For a long time, Kurt was my eye in the storm. I knew I had to be good to him, be good _for_ him, if I wanted to make Mom proud of me.

“It’s only because of you that I didn’t turn into a complete nightmare. You got me into playing ball, and I became a star on the field. That opened a lot of doors for me. You made me learn an instrument, and through music I grew closer to Mom. I’m a damned good cello player, and music was like therapy for me.”

His eyes turned flat. “But it was hard. _I_ was hard. Believe me, I know what a pain I was until I was halfway through middle school. You instilled in me values and morals, and I think part of your reluctance to let Kurt grow up stems from that. You never had to guide him like you did me. He’s always been on the right path because that’s just who he is. Yeah, he learned from my screw-ups, but he never would have taken the road I did.

“You’re not alone in this boat, Dad. I know how hard it can be to love someone like Kurt, someone who doesn’t need you nearly as much as you do him. As much as you did for me, it was Kurt who helped me turn the corner. He looked at me and saw his big brother, and he loved me unselfishly and without restraint, just as he does you.”

Burt swallowed heavily and looked down.

“It’s not easy. It’s not easy living with someone who is just so much better than you at everything, especially when they’re so much younger. Yeah, I’m great at football, but you watched Kurt during his lessons. You know he could have been a champion tennis player or an Olympic figure skater, but he wasn’t interested. You and I related through sports, but neither of us had that with Kurt.

“I was an honor roll student and I know how smart I am, but I will never be in Kurt’s league. He has a genius-level IQ. We joke about his ability with rhetoric and debate, but we always lose to him, don’t we? He’s more logical than we are. He's more rational. He thinks about things in ways we can’t even conceive. We both know that, had you let him skip the grades as the school wanted, he could have graduated from high school last year.”

Burt turned red and squirmed.

Riley grinned. “It’s not easy trying to raise someone who’s so much smarter than you, is it? But we can’t blame him for that. He’s never used his intelligence against us, he’s never looked down on us, and we both know he could have. Instead, he turned it inward. Mom was the same way.

“Everyone loved her, always wanted to be around her, but she was shy and reserved. She only ever had a few close friends, one of whom was her sister. It’s just who Mom was, and Kurt is exactly like her. That’s why I browbeat him into going to the party tonight, because I’m scared what will happen to him if he continues to live life only that massive brain of his. I am so grateful he’s had friends like Brittany and Mike, and even Artie, who have stood by him when it would’ve been easier to walk away. They’ve never been intimidated by him and they love and accept him in ways we can’t. He was born to us, but they _chose_ him.”

“It would be so easy for Kurt to pull the wool over our eyes, to give us lip service and do whatever the hell he wanted. We know he’s secretive by nature and a much better liar than we are, which is why we never knew how badly he was bullied at Jefferson.”

“I hate that that happened,” Burt hissed, clenching his fists. “I hate that I was so oblivious.”

“Join the club. But it happened, and it’s over. There’s nothing we can do about it now, and Kurt handled himself just fine. He always does. That’s the curse of competence. He knew we’d be there for him if he let us, but he didn’t because he knew what to do. As hard as it was, as hard as he fought, he got through it because he doesn’t know any other way.

“And I’m proud of him for that. Damned proud. Does it hurt that he didn’t come to me? It hurts like a bitch, and I want to run out and throttle every little prick who laid hands on him in violence, but I don’t because I know Kurt wouldn’t want that. Because Kurt is better than me, Dad. He’s better than all of us, and that’s fucking terrifying.

“As good as I am with the cello, I will never be able to do what Kurt does with the piano. As nice as my voice is, and I know Kurt envies it, I will never be able to sing like he does. Do you know how many practices I’ve taken him to, where I stand outside the door and _weep_ as he sings? I’m going to graduate early and with honors, but there’s no _limit_ to what Kurt can accomplish.

“I lost it when I was thirteen to a girl whose name I don’t even remember. By the time I was Kurt’s age, I had gone through three girlfriends and slept with them all. We’re both very lucky I haven’t made you a grandfather already. Even if Kurt were straight, he would never have acted as irresponsibly as I did then.

“He makes good choices, Dad, he always has, and he’s never given us a reason to doubt him. He deserves our trust and respect. He’s earned them. I know how much he loves us and I know he wants to make us proud. Instead of insisting that it’s unnecessary, just let him do it. Let him be the man we both know he is. Because if you do anything else, you’re going to lose him, and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Burt blew out a breath and shook his head. “Jesus, son, what the hell would I do without you?”

“You’d be fine, Dad, eventually, but I think if I weren’t here, there would be a wall of silence between you and Kurt that you would struggle every day to climb.”

Burt snorted. “True enough.”

“But there’s something you need to remember, Dad. Kurt is gay, yes, but he’s also a boy who’s becoming a man. He’s going to date other boys. He’s going to sleep with boys.”

Burt choked.

“You need to dump this insane belief that being gay somehow makes Kurt less of a man. We both know that when he and I wrestle around, he could easily take me down. That’s why you had him trained in Aikido, isn’t it? So he could take care of himself, especially against larger and stronger boys. And he can. He’s proven that.

“You also have to have more respect for his choices. Artie hurt him emotionally, not physically, and there’s nothing we could have done to stop it. I know you want to protect Kurt, Dad, so do I, but you have to let him live his life. He needs to learn and grow; we can’t do that for him. Yes, something might happen to him. Something might happen to me or to you, but stopping Kurt from living won’t keep him from dying.”

The tears which had gathered in Burt’s eyes finally began to fall.

Riley stood and crossed to the sofa, sitting down next to his father and wrapping his arms around the man. He placed a gentle kiss on Burt’s cheek. “You’re the best father in the world, Dad. Kurt and I are so lucky to have you. Trust in that, believe in _that_ , and everything else will work itself out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I was kind of an asshole, wasn’t I?” asked a sheepish Finn, looking up from his milkshake.

“A little bit,” Quinn acknowledged, “but it was very mild, certainly when compared to Puck and _especially_ Artie.” She glowered and shook his head. “That was just embarrassing. In fact, I don’t know for whom I’m more embarrassed: Artie or Kurt.”

“I don’t know Artie or Tina that well,” Finn said, “so I don’t know if Mike was right when he said Artie had been making eyes at Tina last year.”

“But we both know Mike,” she countered, “and we know he doesn’t lie. He’s also very quiet and, because he is, that makes him a good observer. We have no reason to doubt him.”

He nodded. “But that’s gross, isn’t it? That Artie was scoping out Tina while he was still with Kurt?”

“Yes, it is,” she said flatly. “It’s even more gross because Kurt was at a different school. We didn’t know him then, so we couldn’t warn him. I guess Artie deserves points for breaking it off before he cheated physically, but he did cheat emotionally.”

“Is that better or worse?” Finn asked.

“It’s a matter of degree,” said a thoughtful Quinn after a beat. “I think they’re equally reprehensible. Physically cheating is disgusting, but it’s also just that: physical. I haven’t been in Glee long, but I’ve noticed that Artie is probably closer to Tina than anyone else, and that must have started last year. His attraction to her is based in friendship. It’s based on emotion. That he was technically with Kurt all last year and didn’t tell him is obnoxious.”

“Did I do that with you?” asked a worried Finn.

She smiled. “Finn, it’s okay to look. It’s natural. I looked at guys when we were together, but that’s all it was. I never even thought about being with anyone but you, and if I had, I would have told you and broken up with you before I acted on it.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

She frowned. “At least, I hope that’s what I would have done. I hope that’s the person I am.”

“Are we good people?”

“I think we are, but we’re not perfect. No one is. I loved being with you, but I think we both realized last year that it wasn’t really going anywhere. And that’s okay. I’m just glad we parted as friends, because I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

He smiled and placed his hand over hers. “Best friends. Always.”

She intertwined their fingers. “Always.”

He cocked his head and stared. “Honey, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing, because I know there’s something wrong.”

She bit her lip as tears appeared in her eyes. “I … I slept with someone.”

He stared at her, shocked. He didn’t think she was ready for that yet. Neither of them were. They had talked about it.

“I don’t remember much of it,” she said softly. “I was drinking.”

Finn frowned. Quinn wasn’t a heavy drinker. Neither was he. He sometimes sipped beer while at a party, and Quinn never drank more than half a wine cooler. They’d seen when some of their friends drank, and they never wanted to be that out of control.

“Were you drugged?” he whispered, voice fraught with rage and tension.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “How would I know? I didn’t think I drank that much, but you know I hardly drink at all. I have no yardstick to measure it against.”

He exhaled and shook his head. “First things first. When did that happen?”

“The beginning of August.”

He frowned. “Where? I don’t remember us going to a party then.”

She shook her head. “We didn’t. Some Cheerios crashed a party over at Dalton.”

“That prep school in Westerville?”

She nodded.

“How much do you remember?”

She winced. “Not a lot. I know that I got separated from Brittany and Santana. Brittany doesn’t drink, so you know she always looks out for Santana and me, but Santana got into a fight with some boys who got handsy with Brittany. I remember flirting with a few boys, but not much beyond that. I woke up in the hotel room we rented in Columbus. I was in bed with Angela Gardner and some other Cheerio. Santana and Brittany were in the next bed over.”

He tightened his grip. “How do you know …”

She turned scarlet. “I was sore. You know, down there. There was blood in my panties. There was … other stuff, too. And I’m late.”

He stared at her for what felt like hours. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, but he knew what it meant when a girl said she was late. “Quinn,” he warbled, “were you raped?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in on herself as her tears began to fall. “I don’t know.”


End file.
